


Greater Pleasures Lie Ahead

by TinyAngryPuppy



Series: The South Wind Mahjong Society [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Aphrodisiacs, Bathing/Washing, Blood, Blood Drinking, Boat Sex, Boats and Ships, Chaptered, Drinking, F/F, Flirting, Food, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jade Harley Has a Dog Penis, Lesbian Sex, Light Bondage, MILFs, Magic, Magic Cock, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Multi, Music, Oral Sex, Other, Piercings, Porn With Plot, Sex, Sex Magic, Sexual Content, Smoking, Threesome - F/F/F, Vampires, Walk Into A Bar, Werewolf Jade Harley, Werewolves, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25842961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyAngryPuppy/pseuds/TinyAngryPuppy
Summary: Rose Lalonde, an accomplished sorceress, is just trying to make it in the modern world. But that's no easy task when the age of magic is coming to an end and an ominous era of machines and technology is launching full steam ahead. It's a time of mysteries and miracles, and danger lurks around every corner. But she knows better than to go running from shadows- greater pleasures lie ahead.In Chapter 1, Rose's adventures bring her to a small town where a sultry vampire finds her too delicious to pass up at a local tavern. Taking a risk, she's rewarded with the royal treatment, once a certain amount of ceremony is observed.In Chapter 2, Rose and Jade encounter all manner of nautical capers on their steamship voyage to the East Islands. Jade is forced to bring all of her powers to bear to prevent a disaster, and as usual Rose has to deal with the consequences.
Relationships: Jade Harley/Rose Lalonde, Kanaya Maryam/Porrim Maryam, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam/Porrim Maryam, Rose Lalonde/Porrim Maryam
Series: The South Wind Mahjong Society [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106039
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27
Collections: Drone Season 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Finder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finder/gifts).



Rose shifts in her saddle, but no matter how she adjusts, comfort eludes her after several long days of driving her pony down the King’s high road. At least the summer afternoon heat has burned off, she thinks with a sigh, and the steeples of the next town are finally coming into view among the treetops, promising a warm bed at last. As if welcoming her, a church bell sounds the end of the working day. Rose sits up in her saddle, so bolstered by the prospect of a tavern meal and a feather bed that for a split second she forgets how much her rear end hurts. As she approaches the walled village’s gates, smoke from the cookstove fires within begins to tickle her nose. She drives her pony onward into the entry queue, mostly merchant carts but a few other oddities like her as well.

The guard doesn’t seem to like oddities. “State your business,” he says gruffly, barely glancing up at Rose. She reaches into her satchel and digs out a tanned sheepskin folio case, from which she produces a sheaf of parchment: a writ of free passage issued by the Complacency of the Learned itself, and authenticated by a high-ranking magistrate. As though alive, an enchantment of a little ink-black cat paces across the parchment, roaming freely within its four edges, underneath the longhand script. Somehow, from within the flat page, the cat blinks up at him and meows silently. He thrusts it back into Rose’s hands reflexively, unnerved, still not making eye contact. “You’re really one of the Learned?” he asks. Rose is quiet, unsure of how to respond, but before she can say anything, he continues, “If you’re here to fulfill a contract or pursue a bounty, you’re required to report your activities to the town guard.”

Rose opens her mouth to speak, her voice raspy with thirst and disuse. “I’m from the Complacency, but I’m just passing through. The only contracts I have tonight are for a roasted pheasant and a hot bath.”

Surprised to hear the voice of a young woman, the guard finally takes a good look at the traveler. She’s small in stature but large in presence, her appearance humble but her countenance impressive. Unkempt silver-blonde hair, slight burn across her sand-colored cheeks, chapped lips in an unconscious scowl. Her eyes conceal worlds, seeming to look not down at him but right through him, lavender in hue and brimming with magical energy. She’s wearing ordinary riding garb, but her fingers and neck are decorated with myriad jewelry full of odd, dull gemstones and carved with unidentifiable symbols. Despite her youth, something about her seems ancient.

Rose’s eyes narrow as the guard’s hand shifts to the pommel of his sword nervously. She’s had her share of skittish guardsmen, feckless lifelong bullies who see her lilac irises and recognize the power within them as a threat, those who’d rather lash out than try and understand. She wonders if she’s going to have a problem with this one; it’s nothing to her to reduce the man’s blade to rust with a word, but a run-in with the Watch is seldom the start to a pleasant evening. Her stomach clenches as the guard’s face goes through a familiar arc of expressions—disbelief, misunderstanding, powerlessness, fear— but his face never betrays the anger that Rose has learned to watch for. He shifts his weight and glances back at the others in line, careful not to appear overly deferential, but eventually he waves her through.

+++

Rose takes so long finagling her sore behind onto one of the barstools—clearly built for someone a foot taller than her— that by the time she pulls herself upright the young barkeep is already standing expectantly before her. Her mouth opens in silent surprise; she’s spent all day looking forward to this, but her head has gone completely blank, the succulent smell of roasting meat filling the tavern already too much to process. “Supper?” she croaks, her parched throat barely able to form the word.

The barkeep nods to a bill of fare stuck to the wall with a kitchen knife. On it are written three words: DUCK, RABBIT, and STEW. Rose’s mouth waters and her stomach growls; each choice is more tempting than the last. Beyond the sign and through a bricked arch can be seen the kitchen and the hearth within it, over which hangs a large stewpot and several spits of small game. A bored-looking boy turns the spits and paints a thin sauce of delicious-smelling spices across the browning meat. But as Rose is agonizing over the decision, someone approaches her.

She turns to see first a tattooed, russet leg protruding from a slit up the side of a shiny black dress before the woman it belongs to adjusts her skirts and takes a seat on the high stool. She pulls off her cloak, revealing a strapless corset-dress lavishly embroidered in forest green, complimenting and caressing her generous curves, her shoulders and the swells of her exaggerated bust taking on a warm auburn glow in the flickering torchlight. She’s older than Rose by several years— that enviable age where one still has her looks but also a bit of wisdom, not to mention coin in her purse. Suiting Rose’s particular taste, piercings twinkle on her lip and eyebrow, and the sorceress can feel color rising to her cheeks as the woman casually brushes her long black hair back and places her little handbag on the bar beside her. Her rich complexion and swirling tattoos are characteristic of the Midlands tribes, and Rose wonders if she’s a resident of the town or a fellow traveller. Her almost emissively green eyes meet Rose’s as her fulsome lips curve into a smile. “What looks tasty tonight?” she asks, her voice low and wry, and a bit husky.

Rose catches herself staring and blinks a couple times. “Er… everything looks good,” she says, feeling more blood rush to her sunburnt cheeks.

“In that case…” the woman signals the barkeep over and says, “One of everything, if you please, and a tankard of ale.” Rose’s blush deepens and she opens her mouth to object, but her stomach just won’t let her. “I hope I have not gone too far?” asks her new friend with a charming smile.

  
Rose swallows and manages to chirp a little “Not at all!”

The ale comes out first, a dangerous proposition for a woman her size on an empty stomach, but Rose is so parched that she drains half of the tall stein before considering the consequences. She issues a satisfied sigh, head already spinning before her tankard hits the bar. Her new friend just smiles at her gusto. Rose, suddenly self-conscious, asks, “Aren’t you going to have anything?”

“I’m here for the company,” says the woman, leaning in a little closer, “and the conversation. You never know who you might meet on the King’s high road, after all. You might run into a pretty little sorceress too far from the Capitol for her own good.” The beautiful stranger lays a soft hand on her thigh, then in a moment brings her lips to Rose’s ear. “…Or you might catch a thief red-handed, Lalonde the Learned,” she whispers, drawing a shudder up Rose’s spine.

Rose’s eyes open— when had she closed them?— and when she looks down, the woman is already reaching into her satchel. Rose can do nothing watch as she roots around in the pocket dimension enchanted into the ordinary-looking leather bag, and sure enough, when she withdraws her hand it contains an opaque white orb. “Ooh, I wonder what the Complacency would say if they knew you absconded with an Oracle!”

Rose snatches the priceless artifact of unimaginable power out of the woman’s hand with a pout, stuffs it back into the bag with finality, and stands up to leave.

“Aw, don’t go running off, little ‘fraidy cat, your secret’s safe with me,” says the woman with a wink and a grin. “Like I said, company and conversation!” Rose takes one last look at the stranger, perched so confidently on the bar, poured so _exquisitely_ into that bodice, her pierced lips curved in a bemused smile, the look of someone who already knows she’s won. Clutching her satchel with both hands, Rose silently glances back and forth between her and the door.

Before she can make up her mind, though, the barkeep returns with an armful of piping-hot dishes, a dazzling array of sizzling meats and hearty vegetables, toasty buttered bread and potatoes, and an eclectic sampling of spiced sundries and piquant pickles. Rose sighs and drops her satchel again.

“I’m Porrim Maryam,” the woman says bemusedly, as Rose begins to wolf down her long-awaited meal. She seems to be getting a vicarious sort of enjoyment out of watching Rose as the petite traveler carves through her banquet, making up for days of surviving on stale biscuits, leathery jerky, and raisins. “I’m a compounder. My daughter and I run the town’s apothecary, and my mother is a midwife.”

“Rude of you to lie,” Rose says through a mouthful of duck breast and preserved honeycomb. She doesn’t even look up from her plate.

Porrim grins, revealing a couple of gold teeth. “Now what would make you say that?”

“You’re no mere compounder,” Rose explains in between spoonfuls of thick stew. “You found the Oracle through my charm. You’re suppressing some kind of enchantment, and that’s not all. You’ve got a classpect, haven’t you?”

Porrim acts put-upon. “A lady’s got to have _some_ secrets,” she pouts, “And don’t accuse me of concealing enchantments when you eat like you’ve got pocket dimension hidden in your stomach!”

It’s been so long since Rose has shared a joke with a friend that she doesn’t quite remember how to. But when her eyes meet Porrim’s, the woman’s easy grin is contagious, and Rose finds herself chuckling too. She feels her wits and strength returning as she eats, and her mood is bolstered by the ale and and the pretty woman beside her. “So you know my name, my vocation, and the contents of my satchel, and you were waiting for me in this tavern instead of helming your shop during peak business hours. Yet instead of stealing said priceless artifact, you buy me multiple dinners and ply me with ale. What are you playing at, Miss Maryam?”

Porrim’s kohl-blackened eyes narrow. She reaches into her handbag and pulls out a little pipe, bites it in place. “Maybe it’s all part of an elaborate scheme,” she says breezily, glancing down at Rose with one eye closed, nudging Rose’s still-half-full tankard of ale an inch closer to her.

Rose plays along, mimicking Porrim’s theatrical air. “Ah, so you’re trying to get me to drink until I’m passed out so that you can rob me and leave me hogtied in a ditch.” Nonetheless, she snaps her finger, lighting a little magic flame from the tip of her thumb.

  
Porrim takes Rose’s hand in both of hers, holding the flame up to light her pipe, “Or maybe I’m just trying to seduce you,” she says distractedly, arching her dark brows and gazing up at Rose, dancing flame reflected in those bewitching green eyes. Rose stiffens, eyes wide as a startled fawn, and Porrim giggles out a little cloud of smoke, taking another puff and then offering the odd-smelling pipe to her.

“We’re just thinking out loud here, right?” Porrim says, resuming stroking Rose’s thigh as the younger woman takes the wooden pipe and sniffs it experimentally. “Maybe my design is to invite you back to my home to share a scintillating evening, to take you to new heights of pleasure until you pass out from ecstasy, and only _then_ to rob you and leave you hogtied in a ditch.”

Rose glances up at Porrim, gauging her intent. There’s desire in her expression for sure, but it’s not selfish desire for money or fame that her eyes betray, or the look of a predator out for a quick fuck. It’s a warm, generous desire, the assured gaze of one who has much to give and takes pleasure in the giving.

Rose takes a puff from the pipe. Whatever she’s smoking, it’s sweet and bready, with a satisfying body to it; her head begins to feel a bit light as she holds the smoke in her lungs, so she exhales quickly, managing to avoid coughing and embarrassing herself in front of the obviously much cooler woman. “I can tell when I’m being made fun of,” Rose says, remaining aloof, passing the pipe back. “You don’t want anything from me, not even my Oracle. And by the way, I didn’t steal it, I _earned_ it.”

Porrim chuckles. “Well now, I wouldn’t say there’s _nothing_ I want from you,” she says through a mouthful of smoke, “It’s just that what I want isn’t anything you’ll miss.” Porrim leans close to Rose, her beautiful features and rich fragrance filling Rose’s senses, those swirling tattoos drawing her eyes down to trace her soft, ochre curves… Rose is transfixed. She reaches for the proffered pipe, but again Porrim’s hands clasp hers and squeeze firmly. Looking right into Rose’s wide, lilac eyes, she winks and says, “Come home with me. Greater pleasures lie ahead.”

Rose says yes.

+++

As it turns out, the Maryam apothecary is quite nearby; like most of the shops on the street, it’s a two-story townhome with a shop on the street level and a residence on the second floor, and even a covered paddock in the rear with room for Maplehoof to rest up and enjoy his own supper. As they enter the store, a hundred scents dance around her nose and a thousand curiosities draw her eye. Unlike the tavern, the shop is illuminated using magic— From a light fixture hanging from the ceiling, enchanted sunstones cast the store in a cozy, honey-gold glow. The selection is quite impressive for a small village shop, and Rose tells Porrim so.

Porrim smiles. “It’s not so much that our selection is good, it’s just that we don’t move much stock,” she says. “Most of our business really is simple compounding, I’ll have you know. Folks around these parts have simple needs. It’s not every day we’re visited by one of the Learned.”

She’s over by the shopkeeper’s counter, putting things in order to close up. Rose takes the chance to explore, wandering the aisles and glancing around at the collection of potions, herbal blends, and salves on offer, the protective charms and amulets, the bins of ritual components, the racks of warding and hexing tools.

One corner of the shop is sectioned off, and a glance behind the velvet curtain reveals a range of sex toys and erotic potions of all types. Rose chuckles at the cleverness of a crystalline cylinder containing a thunder stone enchanted to buzz with lightning magic upon command, wondering if Porrim makes them herself. More interesting to Rose is a wall of single-use sexual enchantments packaged as handy spell cards; according to an explanatory sign, activating the spell by tearing the card grants the user several hours’ worth of magically enhanced fun. There are cheaper cards for stamina or to raise or lower sensitivity, and more expensive cards promising “immersive experiences” tailor-made to the user’s more private fantasies. Rose picks up a card and reads the little 2-panel cartoon on the envelope, depicting a frowning man using the card and suddenly growing a cartoonishly large erection with a surprised grin. She rolls her eyes, but when she flips the card and sees the same cartoon but featuring a woman, she only stares for a moment. Does Porrim make these too? Does she… _use_ them?

Rose turns from the curtained-off section to ask about the cards, but all her questions are forgotten when she finds Porrim, shiny skirts fluttering as she bends over the counter, the long slit up the side revealing a generous amount of her toned leg. Her curvy ass wiggles to and fro as she searches for whatever it is she’s searching for. Finally, she whips upright, a little wooden box in hand. She opens it, and begins to fill her pipe with its contents. When she’s done, she snaps it shut and and strikes a match on the box’s surface.

Before Porrim can offer her the pipe, the doorbell jingles. Porrim _tsk_ s quietly, but turns to her customer and says, “I’ll be right with you!” Then turns back to Rose and says, “Head upstairs and relax, I still need to close up for the evening. My daughter Kanaya will help you find something to wear and wash your riding gear.” Rose begins to object, but Porrim will brook no argument. She takes Rose by the shoulders and steers her against her objections to the foot of the stairs, and sends her up to the residence with the remainder of the pipe and a firm slap on the behind. 

+++

Wondering if she isn’t perhaps in a bit over her head, Rose enters the residence cautiously. While the walls and floor are plain wood, they’re adorned with colorful tapestries and rugs, creating a warm, somewhat quiet space, creating the feeling less of a townhome and more of a mountaintop chalet. The curtains have been drawn shut and a merry little fire crackles in the hearth.

In a corner of the room beneath another sunstone lamp sits a girl reading. Deliberately, she marks her page, sets down her book, and rises from her overstuffed armchair. She seems to be a few years younger than Rose but she’s taller—wow, a _lot_ taller— and carries herself with a pronounced maturity. She’s dressed in a simple muslin housedress and wears no makeup, but her high cheekbones, long black eyelashes and pouting lips need no embellishment; Rose is quite sure she’s never seen such a pretty girl as Kanaya Maryam in all her life.

“Good evening,” says the girl with a smart curtsey. Her eyes meet Rose’s, every bit as green as Porrim’s, and the sorceress can feel her blush returning slightly. Like Porrim, the girl’s skin is a deep olive shade, only hers is dusted with freckles, especially her cheeks and shoulders. Similar tattoos swirl across her collarbones, but her black curls are cropped short and her expression is less winsome and more reserved than her mother. “You’re the one from the Complacency, aren’t you? I… Thought you’d be older. Will you be staying with us long?” She asks.

Rose shakes her head, wondering just how long they’d been anticipating her. Fame in certain circles continues to be more of a liability than a boon, and she makes a mental note to ward future travel plans against scrying even if this ends up being as pleasurable an evening as Porrim promised. She shakes her head, remembers her words, and says, “Just the night. I’m Rose.”

“Lalonde the Learned, yes, people talk. I’m Kanaya, though you know that already. Would you care to skip the formalities in favor of a bath?” the girl asks, her manner a bit clipped, not cold exactly but precise and efficient. As soon as the word leaves Kanaya’s lips, a hundred miles’ worth of aches and pains revisit Rose with a vengeance. The little sorceress nods vigorously, enough to earn a twitch of a smile from her lanky hostess.

Kanaya leads the way to the bathroom, clearly the beneficiary of the bulk of the Maryam residence’s improvements budget; fully tiled and complete with a hand-crank well pump and a brass tub mounted above a dedicated stove, the room wouldn’t be an uncommon sight in a noble’s palace. As Rose looks around, Kanaya sets about filling the tub with clean well water and tossing a few logs on the stove’s fire. One wall is comprised of a ceiling-high bookcase containing dozens of bottles of various colored glass, each one containing a little piece of malachite enchanted with a firefly charm; the room sparkles with the cheery light as the stones glowing within the bottles flit and flutter, sending shimmering reflections off the churning bathwater. Rose gazes in amusement and fiddles with the pipe absently, looking down when she realizes it’s gone out. In an instant, Kanaya is there with a match.

Rose brings the pipe to her lips, her eyes meeting Kanaya’s as the flame jumps to life. As she inhales the smoke— different this time, more citrusy— Kanaya continues to gaze at her, her bemused expression giving way to a lazy smile, not unlike that of her mother. The smoke doesn’t seem to bother her in the least.

She offers the pipe to Kanaya as she exhales. Once her hands are free, she begins to undress, starting with her cloak. “Would your mother be upset?”

Replying, “She’s not actually my mother,” Kanaya takes the pipe and effortlessly draws deep, contributing a thick cloud to the haze of the room, “and I’ve never once seen her upset about anything. Drives me utterly mad sometimes,” She takes her place behind Rose, beginning to unlace her jerkin, and Rose stiffens unconsciously as her long, clever fingers make short work of the knots. “We are mother and daughter the way that members of a convent are sisters. These are roles we’ve chosen, roles we play at.”

Rose isn’t used to this kind of attention, this kind of contact. As Kanaya pulls layer after layer of roadworn canvas and leather off of Rose, careful to be gentle where the rough material has been unkind to her skin, Rose can feel the weight of miles lift from her. The smoky air caresses her revealed skin and she momentarily forgets her embarrassment, yawning and and stretching her arms above her head. Kanaya’s eyebrows raise slightly as she watches Rose’s small, shapely breasts sway, little pink nipples pebbling, and Rose notices her gaze with a shy little smile. As she slides her leggings and underwear off, she sits on the rim of the warming bathtub and tests the water with a hand.

Kanaya gathers up the discarded articles and places them in a laundry basket. Then she begins to unbutton her dress, and before Rose can raise her voice to object, the thin fabric crumples to the tiles, leaving Kanaya in just a white shift. Reflections splash off the bathwater and dance around Kanaya’s rapier-thin body in the barely-concealing garment, tantalizing Rose as twinkling lights play across her slender thighs, her narrow waist, her sharp hipbones. Time seems to slow down as Kanaya closes the space between them, and Rose can’t tear her eyes away as the girl sinks down onto her knees before Rose.

“Turn around and bend over please,” she says perfunctorily, expression perfectly neutral.

Rose squeaks and reels back reflexively, which turns out to be a stupid thing to do when sitting on the rim of a bathtub. In a storm of flailing limbs, Rose splashes backwards into the water, sending a lukewarm wave crashing over Kanaya and soaking her utterly. Reflex taking over, Rose is able to regain her senses enough to cast a quick gravity spell, and in a split second all of the water in the bathtub flies up and out, gathering in a sphere in the center of the room; water from the well pump continues to fly up and into it. Exhaling, Rose takes a moment to congratulate herself for her quick thinking, but she’s now sitting in a hot metal tub above a roaring stove, and she leaps out of it with an undignified yelp right into Kanaya’s arms. The girl catches her effortlessly, her thin arms belying tremendous strength, and Rose looks up into her eyes, stunned. Kanaya’s verdant eyes gaze down, her tawny cheeks reddening, and opens her mouth to say something before all of the water above them crashes down.

There’s a moment of silence as the bathwater surges up the walls and resettles to form a 2-inch lake above the tiled floor. Fortunately the stove and shelf of bottles have been warded against water, but nothing and no one else was spared. “Sorry,” Rose mumbles, “lost my concentration.”

Kanaya smiles through a mop of soggy curls, a little half-grin that reveals a single, sharp white tooth. Rose can’t help but blush as the taller girl sets her down, suddenly very conscious of her nudity, and with a wave of her hand she conducts the water back into the tub and hurries after it. But, at the last second, blushing furiously, she reaches a hand to Kanaya. “Anyway, what were you saying about...?”

“That’s right, I still have to do something about your saddle sores,” Kanaya says, “I have the perfect salve.”

“That’s what— when you told me to—?” Rose says, her face the color of a tomato.

“Of course, what did you think I meant?” Kanaya says, smiling cheekily, picking out the salve from among many others in a case. “Greater pleasures lie ahead. Now relax and let me attend you.”

Rose says yes.

After applying a compound of aloe and peppermint to the numerous red marks that blemish Rose’s porcelain skin, Kanaya sits her down on a stool, proceeding to pour scoops of water over her shoulders, her front and back, and then the crown of her head. She takes her time with Rose’s travel-weary body, restoring every inch of her to full vitality; one by one she works her way through the shelf of soaps and oils until Rose’s pains are a memory, until her skin glows and her hair once again shines pure gold in the flickering magic light. Corking the last bottle, Kanaya appraises her work, taking a long, indulgent gaze at her charge’s body, but this time Rose makes no move to cover herself. Whatever she’s been smoking has got stars sparkling at the corners of her vision, and a sense of utter contentment has settled over her like a warm blanket. She’s overstimulated by the lights, scents, and sensations, each more enjoyable than the last, not to mention Kanaya herself, an endearing creature whose competence is countervailed by a pronounced timidity. Rose wants to pet her.

She gets her chance when Kanaya slides her arms under her knees and around her body, lifting her up as though she were made of paper. Rose nuzzles sleepily into the crook of Kanaya’s neck, and she can’t resist stroking a wayward lock of black hair back behind the girl’s ear— it was _right there_. Kanaya’s eyes flick away and her lips twitch, but she makes no move, other than to carry Rose over to the bath. She risks a glance down at Rose only to meet her eyes, already gazing up at her, eyebrows arched in feline interest.

Blushing heavily, Kanaya lowers her into the hot water, then ducks down and slides the hatch over the stove closed. After folding a towel under her head, Kanaya crosses the room and with a wave of her hand, puts out half of the enchanted lights. Picking up the the laundry basket, she says, “I’ll be in the next room, if you need anything just call,” and exits, shutting the door behind her. Rose shudders as the heat of the bath spreads through her weary body, and with a contented sigh she succumbs to unfathomable relaxation and dozes off.

+++

When she awakes, Rose is completely immobile. Her eyes shoot open upon this realization, and she finds herself strapped to a stone in the center of a rocky, torch-lit cavern, still nude. “Fuck, again?” she curses to herself.

“Oh? Wind up in this situation often?” Porrim’s voice purrs from behind her. “Quite the popular one.”

“Anytime I try to date a ‘sexy older woman’ type, she just ends up using me,” Rose sighs, testing the strength of the wrist and ankle restraints. They’re loose enough to cause no pain, but tight enough to allow no give. “I was hoping you’d be different.”

“That’s quite the accusation,” Porrim muses playfully. “Just because a lady ties you up in her basement doesn’t mean she’s trying to ‘use’ you. Have a little faith!”

“R _eally_ , Rose. You _wound_ us,” says Kanaya, her tone equally bawdy. Rose feels a slim finger brush a stray lock of gold hair from her eyes.

“Forgive me for jumping to conclusions,” Rose says through gritted teeth, trying to turn her head to face her captors but finding it impossible. “It’s just that last time I woke up in such a predicament, I had to blow a whole Vast Croakist temple to smithereens in order to avoid being sacrificed to a giant frog statue. How’s that for faith?”

“Oh, darling, this isn’t a _sacrifice_! It’s just a teensy little blood ritual, we’ll have you out of here in no time,” says Porrim brightly.

“Oh, a _Blood ritual!_ Why didn’t you say so? I’d have brought my lucky fucking dagger!” Quips Rose through gritted teeth. She tries to flail and struggle but all she can do is convulse in place, so she squeezes her eyes shut and does that for a while. She can’t cast a spell, the cavern has been warded by a type of anti-magic she’s never come into contact with. But she’s surprised into stillness as cool, soft hands take hers and squeeze gently.

It’s Kanaya. “There’s no need for hysterics. In fact, contrary to the rumors, adrenaline somewhat ruins the flavor, so it would be beneficial to all parties involved if you just calmed down. This is for our protection…When the ritual begins, donors often end up losing self-control. And there’s really no telling what you’re capable of if you lose control, is there, Lalonde the Learned?”

Rose’s eyes shoot open as the two step in front of her. They’re both dressed in bulky, hooded black robes stitched all over wth shiny green piping that flickers in the lantern light, held in place only by loose cords around the waist. Simultaneously, they cast their robes off, leaving them clothed in nothing but tattoos and shadows. 

Porrim flips her long hair and advances towards Rose, voluptuous hips swinging. “Sexy, right? As I was saying before, it’s not every day we’re visited by a member of the Learned. A single mouthful of blood as magical as yours can keep my darling Kanaya and I satiated for weeks, not to mention it tastes _really_ fucking good.” She’s nothing less than a work of art when revealed to the flickering torchlight, curvaceous and confident, thick hips cocked to the side and muscled arms folded under her stunning, full breasts. Rose’s lilac eyes, trapped facing forward, can’t help but stare at the swirling tattoos and sparkling piercings that adorn Porrim’s gorgeous body, smoky curls of black ink caressing her broad hips, gold rings twinkling at her big brown nipples and a little diamond stud at her navel decorating her toned belly. Drawing up to her full height, she brings a hand up to stroke her chin appraisingly as she grins down at her captive, flashingher gold teeth and exposing a long pair of canines that Rose doesn’t remember seeing in the tavern. Closing the space between them, she strokes Rose’s cheek with such tenderness that the girl ceases struggling immediately, relaxing into her touch. “…Coincidentally, light magic is some of the very most _delicious_ of all.” 

Kanaya, who doesn’t share her the sanguine overconfidence of her “mother,” blushes as her slim body is revealed and unconsciously covers her smaller chest with a forearm as she approaches. Her long, lean frame is similarly tattooed, but she doesn’t seem to have any piercings as far as Rose can see. Her posture is stock-straight and she walks with a self-conscious rigidness; unlike Porrim, she’s blushing slightly in embarrassment, her newly-exposed fangs at work on her lower lip as her eyes trace their way up Rose’s body. “You must have put two and two together by now, right? It’s not too late to say no,” Kanaya whispers, her breath playing across Rose’s sensitive neck.

“Yes, yes,” Rose whispers, trembling in anticipation as four sharp fangs trace the contours of her neck, seeking the perfect purchase; Rose’s head swims as the probing needles test the thinness of her skin. Finally, with a sharp sting, Porrim bites down, piercing a vein with precision and drawing twin wellsprings of bright red blood; forestalling her own pleasure, Kanaya draws back to watch her mother drink. Unable to stifle a rumbling moan, Porrim seals her soft lips over the bite and begins to drink from Rose’s veins. The pain is gone in an instant, and for a moment all Rose can feel is the heat and pressure of Porrim’s mouth at her neck.

Being sure to draw back to where Rose can see her, Porrim messily swallows a mouthful of Rose’s blood with a satisfying _gulp_ , issuing a shuddering sigh and unconsciously fiddling with one of her nipple rings. She’s blushing deeply now, eyes blown, as dribbles of blood drip from her chin and dot her chest. She makes a show of licking her lips and swallowing down every trace of blood, before levelling her gaze back at Rose with a deep chuckle. “Now, your reward.”

She returns to Rose’s neck, deliberately licking up the twin trickles of blood at Rose’s clavicle before beginning to kiss and suckle at the wound. As her lips and tongue work the injured flesh, drawing out more and more blood, Rose’s heart begins to pound and her head spins. Her arms tense as her pulse begins to climb, a quickening in her loins rising up through her belly. She’s overwhelmed by the urge to rip off her restraints, cast her captor to the ground, and ravish her utterly. With newfound strength she strains and struggles against her restraints again, desperate to capture those pierced, smirking lips, when suddenly an intense wave of pleasure courses through her veins, circulating in an instant to the tips of her fingers and toes, radiating in golden waves from her neck. She ceases struggling, going momentarily limp.

From her right side, a low chuckle. “And here I was afraid it wouldn’t work on you,” she says, stroking Rose’s cheek. “Seems my worries were unfounded.”

Rose manages an inquisitive whimper, so Kanaya indulges her. “The anticoagulant in our saliva contains a potent aphrodisiac.”

“Kanaya, what did I tell you about ruining surprises? Rose Darling, as soon as we see that you can control yourself under the effects of our little ‘love potion,’ we’ll have you out of those restraints and into the much more comfortable feather bed upstairs.”

“Don’t be hasty, Mother,” Kanaya counters, drawing silently up to Rose. “I’ve yet to have a taste.”

Rose stirs, and her eyes open to meet Kanaya’s verdant gaze. The tall beauty caresses Rose’s jaw gently, stroking her chin with her thumb before tilting her head up and asking, “are you ready to continue?”

“Huhh— _hurry_!” Rose keens, but Kanaya’s only response is an amused little half-smirk. She takes a long, slender finger and places its soft tip to Rose’s flushed lips. Slowly ( _so slowly!_ ) she traces it down from her neck, ghosting her fingertips down the girl’s quivering chest, chuckling as Rose’s nipples harden to points, aching for attention. She spurns then, continuing her finger’s journey down Rose’s soft tummy towards the patch of curls between her hips. Rose is practically vibrating at this point, her mind devoid of any thought to make way for pure raw pleasure. Her slick thighs rub one another in anticipation of Kanaya’s finger, fingers, _fist_. But she stops short, splaying her large hand over Rose’s lower belly and whispering in her ear, “Greater pleasures lie ahead.” Rose whines deeply, her body straining against her bonds with every ounce of her strength, but Kanaya only gazes down at her in pity, until in a fluid motion, she bites down.

This time, Rose doesn’t feel so much as a pinch; every sensation is transformed into pleasure though the haze of Porrim’s love toxin, and as Kanaya draws her fangs out of Rose’s flesh and begins to drink the blood the springs forth, another dose floods her veins. Rose fights to not pass out in ecstasy as Kanaya’s mouth closes over the bite and she begins to suckle, sipping her blood almost politely. Absent-mindedly, she draws her fingertips back up Rose’s inflamed body and begins to squeeze and caress her sensitive, swollen breasts, earning a gasping purr from the sorceress.

Porrim chuckles as she watches Kanaya feast. She stretches, her thick limbs and and rolling curves rippling as Rose’s blood brings new vitality to every reach of her body. “Mmmm… This is some stuff you’ve got coursing through your veins, deary. I had high hopes, but not _this_ high.”

Kanaya draws back, dabbing at her lips with a handkerchief she pulled from somewhere. “Such depth of flavor... such rich umami… truly delectable, I—I can’t stop!” She tucks in again, and Rose realizes that she’s glad, no, _overjoyed_ that Kanaya finds her blood delicious, that after feeding from Rose’s body Porrim is now brazenly fingering herself, and oh look— is that another diamond stud?

As Kanaya draws away from her neck with a contented sigh, Rose’s body crackles with the desire for more contact. Every hair on her body stands on end and she grinds her thighs together, whining for her tormentors to return. “More…” she wheezes, trying to catch her heightened breath.

Porrim just chuckles. “Kanaya, why don’t you show Rose your appreciation while I head upstairs and prepare the festivities?”

Kanaya turns and fixes Rose with a purposeful gaze. “It would be my distinct pleasure,” she says with a fanged smile. Sidling up to Rose as Porrim gathers up their cloaks and heads upstairs, chuckling as her captive shudders at the contact, Kanaya leans close to her ear and whispers, “I suppose you’ve been patient long enough.” She slides a thin finger down between Rose’s hips and along her sodden folds, inadvertently sending a sticky string of collected juices falling to splatter on the stony floor, quickly followed by another at Rose’s hips begin to shake and shudder.

“Goodness,” she says, drawing back and inspecting her arousal-slick fingers, a blush burnishing her freckles cheeks. “One could almost be convinced you’re enjoying yourself. What have you to say for yourself, darling sorceress?”

“F-Fuck me already!” Rose sputters, spitting and drooling, her head in cloud bank of pleasure.

Kanaya only smiles as she obliges her captive, sliding her two middle fingers inside of Rose’s heat and stirring them around teasingly, enjoying Rose’s strained reactions. She closes her hand over the blonde-tufted mound, delighted by the melody of wet hot flesh as she begins fingerfucking Rose in earnest, though being careful not to go too far too fast— and sure enough, her attentions are answered by a husky gasp inward from Rose. The leather of her restraints creaks with the force of her struggling, and Kanaya licks her chops as she watches the blood move beneath Rose’s pale skin.

“I’d say we’re just about ready,” Kanaya says, pulling out and spreading her slick digits to reveal the extent of Rose’s glistening arousal to the torchlight. Rose nearly sobs when she’s left empty, but her dark-cast eyes widen at the sight of Kanaya deliberately licking each of her long fingers clean. Fixing Rose with a focused, intense gaze, she runs her tongue over her fangs and leans close, recapturing Rose’s lips in a passionate kiss. Rose can taste herself on Kanaya’s skillful tongue, love juices and traces of magic, the scent of blood heavy on her breath, sending shivers through Rose’s hips and and making her head pound in desire. Kanaya returns her fingers to their purpose, slipping down Rose’s shivering body to reenter the young sorceress, at once reclaiming all the ground they’d lost and then some. In no time, Rose comes with a keening whine, unable to whip her head but trying her damnedest, dotting the stone floor beneath her with dribbling juices. “…Exceedingly ready,” Kanaya says to herself, and she smiles as she begins to unlock Rose’s restraints. Taking Rose’s hand once it’s free, she allows Rose to fall into her embrace, before easily picking her up in her arms. “This may be a bit uncomfortable, but please bear it.”

Rose is stunned by a sudden sense of pressure, as if she’s being pulled in every direction by numerous rubber bands, but as soon as it’s started it’s over and Kanaya is laying Rose on a luxurious bed in a wholly different room. “Wha— That was no magic,” Rose says, as her mind reels beneath two layers of silky toxin, gazing up at her hosts, desire brimming in her lilac eyes.

She settles into the soft embrace of the feather mattress and downy sheets, and takes a deep inhale of the perfumed air of the bedchamber. It’s a simple, stately room with sturdy-looking furniture and a couple of large glass windows obscured by long maroon curtains. Numerous candles illuminate them, flickering dramatically. The room is panelled in simple wood much like the entrance room, though the elaborately-carved four-poster bed is anything but ordinary.

Sidling up behind Kanaya and hugging her around the waist, Porrim laughs, “My daughter still has trouble keeping her speed under control when she’s just fed. Gods, you’re so ready for it!”

“Then why am I still waiting?!” Rose cries, and Porrim giggles girlishly. She replies by patting Kanaya on the ass authoritatively.

Kanaya is there in a flash, her fingers back inside and her tongue at Rose’s ear. She resumes her diversions, stirring her fingers around the blonde’s burning honeypot and nuzzling locks of silver hair out of the way in order to run her tongue up the shell of her ear. Rose, now unrestrained and free to react however she pleases, clings to Kanaya with all her strength as the vampire tunes her body like a violin, readying her to respond to the type of love she enjoys making. She makes the analogy literal when she pinches a stiff pink nipple and twists it like a tuning machine, racking Rose with a shockwave of bliss and earning a musical warble of pleasure as lavender eyes are cast wide, unblinking, tears sparkling where they gather on her blonde lashes. Kanaya’s lazy smile broadens into a shiny-fanged grin, and as she inserts a third finger Rose’s cries rise a third octave.

Porrim watches and smokes as the lovers switch positions, her daughter reclines on the bed, stretching her fine arms and luxuriating as Rose crawls over and buries her face between her long, tattooed legs. Rose is voracious, and throws herself fully into bringing Kanaya pleasure, busy fingers tracing black swirls and skillful tongue insatiable. In no time she’s on all fours like an animal, and Porrim smirks appraisingly as she watches the elite spellcaster’s ass wiggle, candlelight twinkling off her pleasure-wet thighs.

Rose doesn’t notice Porrim approaching her from behind, she’s too busy exploring Kanaya’s pussy with her tongue. Porrim crawls up behind her on the bed, taking advantage of her distraction to surprise her with a string of kisses up her dripping thighs. Rose gasps in surprise but it quickly gives way to a shudder of pleasure as the older woman’s sharp piercings graze her tender skin, and she redoubles her efforts as Porrim holds onto her ass with both hands and buries her face between Rose’s plump cheeks, kissing and licking and giggling and squeezing, clearly having the time of her life. Rose’s eyes shoot open wide as Porrim’s wayward tongue probes her entrance, suckles her clit, teases her ass; moaning into Kanaya’s heat as her head is squeezed between those tawny thighs, Rose can only hold fast to her hands and tongue-lash Kanaya’s clit until her breath is all gone. Every sensation the elder vampire delivers Rose is magnified by the toxins in her veins, and climaxes come easy as she gets acquainted with Porrim’s tongue stud.

Kanaya seems to be enjoying herself as well, going by the quaking of her hips and how firmly she’s squeezing Rose’s hands. She’s not loud but she’s vocal, offering soft mewls and encouraging murmurs in response to Rose’s ministrations, guiding her along, brows bent in desire as she encourages her lover with nearly-subaural utterances of _“Right there!”_ and _“Just like that!”_

It’s not long at all before she comes with a strained whine, folding her pleasure-racked body around Rose’s head as she rides the girl’s tongue to bliss, all decorum momentarily forgotten. Rose’s lilac eyes flutter open in time to see an expression of pure pleasure across her sharp features, an unguarded, teary grin, as she flops back onto the feather bed. Rose wants to follow her down to the sheets, but Porrim’s still got a tight hold on her ass and if would be rude to interrupt her. She realizes that Kanaya is gazing bemusedly at her from her repose, and Rose feels suddenly self-conscious as the beautiful girl watches her succumb to the pleasure Porrim’s pierced tongue is delivering her. Sensing an end, Porrim captures Rose’s clit between her lips and finishes her off, a leg-numbing orgasm sending her reeling to the bedsheets beside Kanaya.

In a moment Rose and Kanaya’s fingers are intertwined, and in two their tongues; Porrim gazes down at the amorous girls approvingly, rubbing her clit stud. But she’s got different plans for tonight, and while her lovers are distracted she goes to retrieve something from the drawer of a cabinet along one wall.

On the bed, the two younger girls continue making love, each unwilling to end the kiss. Rose could do nothing but kiss Kanaya for the rest of her life as far as she’s concerned, but eventually she comes up for breath, only to gasp when she sees just what Porrim has been up to. The woman is holding a familiar-looking card, one Rose recognizes from the shop— specifically, the cordoned-off section. Porrim tears the card in half, activating the spell it contains, and in a puff of magical smoke the two half burst into a bright pink flame and burn out. The room seems unnaturally dark for a moment as Rose’s eyes adjust, and she rubs her eyes and squints for a moments before the taller woman comes back into focus. The sight that greets her shocks her eyes wide: Porrim approaching the bed, one hand and arm squeezing and rolling across her nipple rings, and the other wrapped around a thick penis growing out of her folds.

“Like it? It’s a custom job,” Porrim says breezily, gathering a bead of precum from the tip and testing the consistency between her thumb and forefinger. “I’ve been told it’s better than the real thing.” She begins the stroke the auburn shaft, smearing it with her own juices, until it’s covered and slick. “I asked my plug— I mean, my witch friend in the East Islands to make one for me that suited my... _personality_. She sent me a pack of these cards and called me a pain in the ass.”

Kanaya props herself up and pulls Rose into her lap, wrapping her warm arms around Rose’s chest and nuzzling her head onto Rose’s shoulder. She gently squeezes Rose’s tits as Porrim approaches them on the bed, stalking towards Rose on all fours with that same lidded, self-assured gaze she had at the tavern, and Rose realizes this was exactly where she knew the evening would take them all along. She swallows nervously as she watches Porrim’s ersatz cock bob with the motions of her body, unceasingly hard, a long string of sticky precum dribbling down.

“Goodness, you two really are incorrigible,” Kanaya tuts, as she pinches Rose’s nipple and ghosts her fingers along the girl’s ribcage, across her soft tummy, down along a hipbone and past her blonde curls. The younger vampire only swats Rose’s hypersensitive folds with an open hand, and then again and again. Rose reels in shock, but the potion in her veins only allows her to feel pleasure, and she whips her head back and forth, sending tears flying. But just as she fears she might come from the mistreatment, Kanaya stops, earning an impatient whine from her lover. Realizing how close Rose was to succumbing to Kanaya’s degradation, Porrim grins down at them, continuing to stroke herself.

Nibbling the spellcaster’s ear, Kanaya reaches both hands down over Rose’s hips, and spreads her sodden pink folds open for her mother. Rose reaches back to hold onto _something_ , and thankfully she finds Kanaya’s hand and the back of her head, as Porrim settles before her on her knees, not entering her immediately but sawing the considerable length of her dick across Rose’s spread-open entrance a few times first, pressing the heat of her pussy to Rose’s and colliding their hips together with force as she resumes stroking her shaft. Rose cries out at the contact.

“What’s the matter, my sweet?” Porrim smirks.

“Fuck me!” Rose gasps, writhing in Kanaya’s lap. “Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me _fuck me!”_

“I believe that’s your cue,” Kanaya chuckles to Porrim. Finally, The elder vampire rears back and guides herself to Rose’s entrance, sinking fully inside in a single, powerful thrust. Rose holds on to Kanaya for dear life as Porrim fills her utterly.

Allowing a moment for Rose to get adjusted, Porrim strokes along her pale thighs, before taking hold of them and beginning to roll her hips, stretching and stroking Rose’s insides, stirring her hips around, just having fun with her. “Gods, you’re so fucking tight…” She murmurs.

Rose moans in pleasure, gasping and cooing as Porrim teases new sensations out of her body, and Kanaya giggles as her hands resume their exploration. After exchanging a quick glance, Kanaya roughly squeezes Rose’s nipples as Porrim begins to fuck her in long, laconic strokes.

Leaning down until her hot breath plays across Rose’s ear, Kanaya whispers, “Yes, that’s it… You look so beautiful like this Rose, you’re so pretty…” As Rose wails and writhes in her lap, she alternates between nibbling her ear and breathing little affirmations into it. “ _Yesss_ , so powerful, so _delicious_ …” she hisses as she captures a stiff pink nipple between two sharp fingernails, earning a shaky moan—and an unconscious _clench_ — from the sorceress.

“Ooh, I think she liked that,” Porrim giggles. She begins to swing her hips faster, thrusting deeper into Rose’s tender heat, her soft round breasts bouncing in time with her strokes, lines of sweat down her body and across her tattoos beginning to gleam in the candlelight. She releases her grip on Rose’s legs, reaching under her thick ass to pull her hips up and closer, as though she was weightless, to grind the last bit of her cock inside. Rose gasps and tightens her grip on Kanaya as Porrim rears back and slams home, gritting her fangs as she crashes her hips into Rose’s, driving her entire length into Rose’s waiting cunt with each thrust. She fucks Rose relentlessly, wildly, as Kanaya teases her hypersensitive body, flicking and pinching her stiff clit to wring yet another orgasm from her.

But before Rose can come down, Porrim pulls her up off the bed and into her lap until she wraps her legs around the woman’s strong hips, sinking back inside her even deeper than before, their bodies pressed to one another. Now they’re face to face, which means Rose can finally kiss Porrim, so she wastes no time. Despite having no breath, Rose still kisses Porrim as deeply as she can manage, in between panting and gasps for _more_ , thrilled by the feeling of her lip rings and the way her cock twitches when Rose sucks her tongue. She moves Rose as though she were weightless, holding her hips in both hands and thrusting up into her, rocking her entire body with each furious stroke. 

Kanaya is happy to spectate for a while, but after a few minutes she interrupts. “You two are being awfully cruel leaving me out,” she says, sidling back up to the two lovers. “Give me something to work with here, Mother.”

“Fine, just lemme—” Porrim says through gritted fangs. Picking Rose up completely off the bed and standing before it, Porrim flips her around, snaking an arm under one of her knees to hold her up and sinking back inside from behind. Rose flails and hooks an arm back and around Porrim’s neck, the other reaching out unconsciously and finding a tall bedpost.

As Porrim fucks her standing up, her implacable arms holding the girl immobile to receive her furious thrusts, all laid bare before Kanaya, the younger vampire licks her fangs. She begins to tease Rose’s straining clit even as Porrim pumps away, unconsciously fingering herself as she does so, and in no time she’s sucking and slurping away at the wet heat at the joining of their sexes. Rose comes again with a cry, splashing juices across Kanaya’s freckles, and the convulsions that wrack her are intense enough to set Porrim off too.

With a low groan, Porrim begins to thrust slowly and deeply up into Rose. She finishes with that same smile Rose saw at the bar, that same lazy confidence, not even fucking through it but simply sinking deep inside of Rose, groaning, and giving in to pleasure, her cock jumping with each fat burst, the shockwaves alone bringing Rose to climax again. Weakly, Rose looks down to see Kanaya’s rapt, blushing face, streaked with her thin juices and spots of white where her cream was worked into a froth by Porrim’s intense bucks. Finally, Porrim pulls out with a groan. She settles Rose down into the sheets, and in no time Kanaya is there, nimble tongue already lapping her folds and thighs clean. Porrim stretches and yawns as the magical toy vanishes in a puff of smoke, smiles down as the two girls intertwine fingers, and goes to retrieve her pipe.

“You have to— You have to give me one of those cards,” Rose says when she’s caught her breath. “I want to try it.”

“Oh? And who do you want to try it on?” Porrim says, her breath surprisingly even.

But before Rose can answer, the door slams open. Two women burst through the frame, arm in arm and mid-song: a massive woman wearing a familiar looking black cloak, unmistakably of the Maryam clan going by her bronze skin, green eyes and swirling tattoos, and a younger woman wearing a witch’s hat and a formal-looking black dress. In the candlelight, Rose almost mistakes her for another Maryam at first. But she has the rich Black skin and seemingly endless ringlets of West Islander, and her shiny green eyes are a slightly paler shade than her Vampiric hostesses. A familiar shade, in fact. Above the rim of the Witch hat, a pair of fluffy white doggy ears perk up.

“What the hell are YOU doing here?!” Yell Rose and Jade at the same time.

+++

The Breakfast table is lively the next morning. Rose and Jade are served buttered bread and fruit preserves while their Vampiric hosts gaze on, swaddled in their cloaks to ward off the encroaching daylight.

“I am sorry that we interrupted you last night,” the huge new Maryam says once they’re all assembled. “We were carousing.”

“You should apologize to the neighbors, and the bards for that matter,” Porrim says through a wry smile. “Your singing could wake the dead.”

“I am sorry that we interrupted you but I will not apologize for having fun,” the eldest Maryam says with finality.

“Yeah, you weren’t exactly being quiet yourselves!” adds Jade as she messily chomps down her blackcurrant toast.

“Fair enough.” Porrim concedes. “Anyway, since we’re all assembled, I have a job for the two of you.” Rose and Jade share a glance and then turn to the woman.

“The friend I mentioned before contacted me recently, the one in the East Islands. She told me she’s got a new prototype, very hush-hush. She won’t even have it ported, she asked me to send a courier to hand-carry it.” Porrim says while lighting her favorite pipe. “Knowing her, it could be anything. I figure I’d offer you two the contract.”

Jade’s ears perk up and her long, fluffy tail begins to wag. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to go to t’e Eastern Islands!” she says.

Rose considers the offer. She doesn’t have a set destination, and as long as she’s got the Oracle with her, the farther from the Capitol, the better.

Rose says yes.


	2. You Know How The Moon Gets Me

The morning air is damp and chilly as Rose and Jade arrive at the harbor, and they can’t help but boggle as they alight from their carriage. Busy merchants and fishermen drive carts to and fro at reckless speed through the thick fog, and in the distance hulking ships queue into infinity, smokestacks disappearing into the haze. Jade’s tail wags as she takes in the scale of the logistical enterprise, her wide green eyes flitting excitedly from the massive vessels to the busy longshoremen. “Rose, look at all the ships! Just t’ink, each one goin’ somewhere completely different!” She says, tugging the sleeve of Rose’s dress.

“I’m looking,” Rose says, adjusting her sleeve. “There are certainly a great deal. Are any of them Halley Trading Company ships?”

“Probably!” Jade says. “Wouldn’ know.”

Rose doesn’t usually think about things like this, so she indulges her friend and considers it. A Space magic user like Jade would naturally be in her element in a mercantile port, since she’s principally concerned with the movement and scale of things, and there are few more complex arrangements of human endeavor at scale than a trading port. Jade’s skillset and experience as a Witch, an active and efficacious wielder of hexes and enchantments, would make the administration and operation of a port as simple as tidying a cupboard; in fact she comes from a family of Western Islands shipping magnates, making the prospect a distinct possibility in her future. Rose, on the other hand, has to concentrate for her Light magic to be of much use. It can aid in determining the outcome of one uncertainty at a time, but if she were to attempt to See where every ship and person was going, she’d be asking for a blurry, strobing Vision followed by a forty-eight hour migraine.

Rose glances back at her companion only to see her bounding off towards a team of longshore mages, her wide-brimmed pointy hat flopping in the morning chill. She catches up to see Jade’s face in rapt curiosity and delight as the team operates in a chain to shrink, float, place, and resize huge crates of goods onto a trading charter. As they finish up the cargo for one ship, a steam tug pulls another one up, and the process repeats. The line of ships stretches back into the fog, further than even Rose can see.

“T’at little guy t’ere?” says Jade, tugging on Rose’s sleeve and pointing at the tugboat with a bucktoothed grin. “T’at’s a Salamander, made by a Arcanist cabal called Igneus. A sunstone inside powers a steam engine. An arcanist activates t’e stone while it’s harbored, and t'en any old crew can run it!”

“The inexorable march of progress, eh? Soon we’ll be rendered obsolete,” Rose says. “They need us now, but the more of us they can replace with machines, the more they will. All the Complacency does these days is lend out tenured old fogies to sit on boards and advise businessmen on how to profit off Magic’s gradual decline.”

“Huh?” Jade says distractedly. “Maybe for sorcerers. But it’s not like you bums do any real work anyway. Look how t'e port authority paid for t’e permanent Circles so longshore mages wouldn’t have to waste time every morning scribin’ t’eir own.” She points a green-painted nail, and sure enough, the intricately-scribed circles the workers are standing in are perfectly identical, cast in pale metal and set into the even planks, as opposed to the industry standard limestone dust mixed with scrap metal filings. “Look how well t’ey’re able to coordinate spellwork now. T’is wasn’t possible when we were in school!”

“Excellent, so instead of being replaced by machines, you’ll be forced to become one.” Rose sighs. “If every workplace starts using identical Circles, they’ll stop teaching circle scribing in school, and mages will be that much easier to replace. And anyway, I hate when people tell me what spells to use.”

“Ah g’wan, you hate when anyone tells you anyt’ing!” Jade barks, her musical accent coming out as she gets excited, “but t’at's just cause you hate having to work toget’a wit' anyone!”

Rose is about to argue, but then reconsiders. “That’s… true, I suppose. But it’s not as though I have no love of _people_ , it’s just…”

“I know you love _me_ ,” Jade grins, giving Rose a playful punch on the shoulder. “You just hate when t’ings aren’t perfect. If someone else buggers up, you get mad. When _you_ bugger up, you get absolutely furious!” Her tail wags as she teases.

Rose blushes and frowns at the direct hit. “…Maybe I’m a little jealous of how easily Witches are able to coordinate. Two sorcerers working on the same problem will come up with three solutions and have four arguments about which one to employ.”

Jade giggles, “Even if one sorceress can do t’ job of a whole team, she can’t have t’ whole wrap party!” Then, gathering up her collars against the fog and _brrrrrrr-_ ing comically, says “Come on, we should be gettin’ on.”

Rose and Jade follow the signs until they find their ship, a midsized steam liner called the _Ariuru Maru_ , striking white with dramatic red chimneys. They join the queue of chilly, damp passengers and make their way up the gangplank. As Jade and Rose make their way to the front of the queue, they’re greeted by a delegation of crewmen in sharp white uniforms. In the center, two impressive-looking women in navy-blue jackets and peaked caps stand waving at the line of passengers. One is thin and stern and the other is curvaceous and bubbly, but they’re both remarkably tall, with eyes of rich fuchsia. “Welcome aboard!” calls the curvier of the two, “Good morning everyone! Clear skies ahead!” The lankier one just glowers through the tinted lenses of her spectacles.

They arrive and begin to settle into their cabin. As Jade goes about unshrinking and stowing their luggage, Rose wards the walls against sound and casts a balance enchantment to help stave off seasickness. Jade’s hunched over, digging through one of her trunks, but her wagging tail gives away her excitement. “Ro-ose, remember I was sayin’ before ‘bout how you love me and all t’at?”

Rose glances up from a spellbook. “And I do, immensely,” she drawls, “Why do you ask?”

“Because…” Jade says, withdrawing a box from her luggage with a cheeky grin. “ _Oooooooof_ …” She draws the word out in singsong as she wheels around, motioning with a fuzzy ear to the cabin’s sole table, currently folded to the wall. Rose takes the cue and unfolds it. “ _Coffee!”_ She declares, opening the box with a dramatic flourish.

Inside is a silver tea service, but the expensive-looking kettle and cups aren’t what draw Rose’s eye; it’s the gold-foil package of roasted coffee beans that she reaches for. She opens the bag and a familiar aroma fills her nose, of their old college dorm, of the smoky cafes where she and her classmates used to boast and banter the semesters away, of Jade’s lips in the middle of the night. “Oh my gods, I do love you Jade, I truly do,” Rose says, inhaling the nostalgia deeply. Jade just giggles, beginning to set the table as Rose starts to make the coffee, reprising old roles.

“I haven’t seen coffee for months,” Rose says, portioning the beans into a hand-crank grinder, “I guess being the heiress of a shipping magnate has its perks.” She draws a circle in the air with a black nail and the grinder begins to crank itself, snowing the fragrant grounds into the cloth filter.

Jade’s ears flatten defensively. “Ah g’wan with t’at ‘ _heiress_ ’ business, I been a regular company pup! You know my uncle woulda been happy to spoil me like a princess, but ever since that roun’head businessman of his convinced him to send me to school, he’s been keeping me on a short leash, and usin’ my magic whichever way he pleases.”

Rose frowns in sympathy as she attempts a pour-over from muscle memory. “Well I suppose that entitles you to all the coffee you can drink. Shall we toast to the adults who set our lives on this bitter trajectory, or the children who will inherit the world we destroy?”

“Gods, you’re such a drag today!” Jade laughs. “Let’s toast to us in the here and now, and a safe journey if we _absolutely must_ t’ink about t’ future.”

“Very well. To a safe crossing of the polar Ley, and many happy returns.”

“Hear here!” Jade yips, clinking her cup to Rose’s and taking a sip. “Ohh, no one makes apourover like Lalonde t’e Sunburned!”

“Well you always manage to find the perfect beans, Sprout,” Rose demurs, but she can’t help but feel warmed by the compliment. She watches dimples form at the corners of Jade’s contented smile as the tall woman settles back in her chair and sighs. Rose sips her coffee, and sure enough, it’s like the sunrise after a long, sad night.

The ship sets off, though neither foghorn nor engine’s rumble penetrate Rose’s enchantments. The last of the morning fog has burned off, and sun shines in though the porthole. Jade fetches a cribbage set from her luggage and she and Rose spend the morning playing parlor games, reminiscing about school and catching up on each other’s struggles navigating their changing world. Jade regales Rose with news of far-off lands, and Rose catches Jade up on the latest corruption scandals in the Capitol. Before they know it, the pot is nearly empty, and Rose motions for the last of it. “Do you mind?”

Jade smiles conspiratorially. “You know you’re gonna,” she says. Rose is already draining the pot into her teacup, shaking it to get every last drop.

The ship’s mess hall is painted as white as its hull, and every surface gleams in preparation for the first luncheon of their journey. She and Jade sit at one of the numerous round tables, arranged by room number. A memory of Porrim mentioning that she’d booked their tickets on the strength of this line’s galley alone flashes though her head. At the time Rose was a bit peeved that Porrim would think her so one-note as to be led around by her stomach again, and yet hunger pangs stab at her as her coffee buzz wears off.

They’re sailing first class on Porrim’s silver, despite vociferous protestations from Rose and Jade’s offer to call in an overdue favor instead. Porrim winked and told them it was fine, as apparently the stuff is toxic to vampires anyway. Kanaya, for her part, packed them a steamer trunk each full of clothing she’d made herself, with the understanding that they’d be sent back full of luxurious Eastern fabrics. Rose had picked out a dress of lightweight wool, dyed a lovely puce with white lacework in a band across the empire waist. Jade couldn’t wait to wear the nautical-themed outfit that Kanaya had made her, complete with caped shirt and bell bottoms, of a soft but sturdy black canvas. It was faintly ridiculous, but Jade had an uncanny way of pulling off an ensemble. Kanaya had even stitched “ _Jade”_ in green over the breast pocket.

Rose is shaken from her memories as a young man approaches. He’s a Southern Islander with a characteristically generous build, kind-looking blue eyes and a showroom smile, dressed nattily in a waistcoat. At his collar and wrists Rose notices the edges of traditional tattooing.

“Good day, ladies, I’m John Crocker,” he says. Rose and Jade greet him in turn, and he takes his seat. “It’s just going to be me for this trip, my father had to cancel last-minute.” He speaks in upper-crust, Capitol-received common, without a trace of the accent— or mirth— that Rose had unconsciously come to expect from the big, boisterous, and infamously funny peoples of the South.

“I’m Jade Harley and t’is is Rose Lalonde,” Jade says, sizing up the boy. “Crocker, you say? As in Crocker Hearth?”

“That’s me, John Crocker as in Crocker Hearth,” he replies with a trace of a frown, sinking a bit in his seat.  
Jade’s ears droop. “Hey, I didn’ mean—”

But John waves her concern away. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I am here on company business, after all. Third time. There’s not much more to say about me.”

“Oh, maybe you can tell us about some of the best places to visit!” Jade says, grasping.

John shrugs. “Wouldn’t know any. I usually get booked into a Capitol-style hotel near the port for some meetings and then head straight home. Or to some other place, if I don’t head straight home. I’m going home after this though.”

Rose and Jade exchange a quick frown. The young man is trying his best to seem cordial, but he’s clearly suffering from this lifestyle. Rose’s head begins to throb as she gazes at him, a creeping magical sense telling her something about John is off. If only she could tell with a touch more certainty... perhaps with a bit more information? “So you’re a baker?” she probes.

John shakes his head. “I wish. On paper, I’m an accountant, but what I really am is the owner’s son.”

“Well, you’re among good company. My mother heads the Complacency of the Learned, and lo but where have I found myself? And Miss Harley here would go by the name Halley if she wanted to be treated like an aristocrat. I have it on good authority that she worries if she’s found out, people would call her ‘ma’am.’”

John smiles at Jade. “That would make you our distributor. I’m guessing you hate being pampered like a prize Pomeranian?”

Jade flashes him a fanged grin. “What wolf wouldn’t?”

On that note, the trio pause to read their bills of fare. John pulls a pince-nez from his waistcoat pocket and squints at the looping cursive through the thick lenses. A waiter drops a bucket of crushed ice on their table containing a bottle each of champagne and orange juice, as well as four pewter cups. Jade puts her menu down and pours herself a glass of both in equal measure.

“Make your mind up already?” Rose asks. Jade just flicks an ear to the end of the banquet table along one wall, where a couple of white-jacketed workers are hoisting a massive roast and a chef is sharpening a carving knife. “Ah.”

John’s gaze lingers on Jade’s ears as he puts down his menu. “Um, so are those…” he begins, trailing off when both women turn to him, smiling knowingly.

“ _‘Are those real?’_ Always a valid question when it comes to witches,” Rose says, smirking at Jade, “though valid is not always the same as advisable.”

“Ah g’wan, I’m not gonna bite his head off,” Jade laughs, wiggling each triangular white-furred ear in turn. “Yes, t’ey’re real alright, but if you mean are t’ey magic, well t’en also yes! T’ey happen to be very important evidence pertaining my research.”

John looks back and forth from Jade’s ears to Rose’s smirk. “Research into what?” he asks uneasily.

“Predators,” Jade grins, exposing a row of unusually sharp teeth, and then trots off to the buffet to see how much meat she can carry.

Rose orders clam bisque for her soup, and she’s looking forward to the curried beans and tripe, but she’s having trouble deciding between squab or marrow toast. Either way, the pear tart promises a high-note ending, and if she has any room left, there’s always the banquet table. John orders oxhead soup, mushroom and leek risotto with aged cheese, and a fish-and-eggplant tajine.

Once they’ve put their orders in, Rose returns to their earlier topic. “So, you come from a family of bakers, and yet in the eyes of your father you’re ‘too good’ for baking, is that the size of it?

“Exactly. I understand where he’s coming from, you know. His whole life he was told, work hard, grow your business, leave it to your son. As he sees it, he’s freeing me from work, giving me a better life. He can never see this for the prison it is. To someone who came from where my pop did, this is as good as it gets,” he motions to the room at large.

Rose sips her mimosa. “I’m sure he’s very proud of you,” she says, wryly. “You’re the very daguerreotype of a modern businessman.”

“And he tells me so often. When I win a prize in abacus school or play a piano recital or give a speech in perfect common, he’s so _verbosely_ proud of me. The last two times we took this trip he entered me into the talent contest without even asking me first.” John chuckles. “I used to love baking with him, you know. he’d teach me something new every morning. Nothing made me happier than creating something delicious and sharing it with everyone. But as soon as I was old enough, he sent me to school, said the heir of the company should be educated. Said when I inherit I’ll take the operation worldwide. Then he did it himself, despite being a humble baker with no education, and now I’m just an overeducated courier, carrying documents around for other people to seal. Some heir.”

Rose smiles sympathetically. Light compels her to meet his earnest honesty with her own. “My mother used to brush my hair. Lalonde the Luminary, the world’s foremost sorcerer, with a plain wooden brush, by candlelight. I’m not sure why that’s what I remember about the scant time she deigned to dedicate me, but it was… _normal_. We’d talk about books and plays, nothing too personal, but I thought to myself, this is what ordinary girls do. Normal mothers and their normal daughters. I wonder if she felt that way too, on those mornings. When everything in your life is an illusion, you… cling to what’s real.”

Rose gazes up to look at John, and is surprised to find his ocean-blue eyes brimming with tears. “I’m so sorry, I—” she begins, but suddenly a burst of pain strikes her right behind her eyes, staticky bolts of magical feedback running through her head and screwing her eyes shut.

“I’m not— I’m suddenly feeling under the weather,” John says, standing up and gathering his things by the sound of it. “Seasickness, I’m sure, dreadfully sorry, perhaps we can… at dinner.” And with a strained smile, he heads away. Rose is too stunned by the pain to say anything, but her stomach sinks as she blinks her eyes open, only to watch him leave.

Momentarily, Jade returns, balancing three heaping plates of every kind of animal flesh imaginable. “Where did John go?” she asks.

“I don’t know if I said the wrong thing, but he left in a hurry, claiming seasickness,” Rose frowns. “More importantly, there’s something about that boy that’s very wrong. All of my senses tell me he’s not going to survive this journey.”

Lunch is as delicious as promised, and yet John’s absence leaves a bad taste in Rose’s mouth that nothing on the dessert table can assuage, and she’s sure to check. In the afternoon, while Jade heads to the first class lounge for the castoff social ball, Rose takes a novel and a flask of wine up onto the deck to watch the sunset in peace and quiet. Neither of them see their neighbor again, and he doesn’t show up at dinner either; when they’re preparing for bed Jade breaks the silence about it.

“You t’ink we should check on him?” Jade asks in a half-whisper, her ears lolling to the sides in sympathy.

Rose, sitting on the bottom bunk, thinks hard as she dresses for bed, allowing the currents of possibility to flow over her like the silk of the hand-made nightgown Kanaya gave her. Nothing is illuminated when she pictures John, so she shakes her head and says, “I have a strong feeling that John’s already out for the night. But I do think escorting him to breakfast tomorrow and sitting him down before a tower of pancakes would do a lot for his mood at least. If he knew he had a couple friends on board, maybe he wouldn’t feel so… cabinstuck. No wait, that sounds stupid.”

Jade laughs. “It’s a good idea, t’ough!” With no warning, she dives onto the bunk and throws her long arms around Rose, squeezing her tight and nuzzling into the crook of her neck. “T’e great Lalonde t’e Learned, always such a grump, but could it be t’at… _she’s_ _actually a total sweetheart???”_

Rose stiffens at the unexpected contact, but relaxes as Jade’s breath plays across her sensitive neck and ear. “It’s no more than anyone would do,” she says, blushing and glancing away shyly.

“Ah g’wan,” Jade mumbles into Rose’s hair, and she kisses her cheek before releasing the shorter girl to climb up to her bunk, her warmth quickly replaced by crisp night air. The moon shines in through the cabin’s porthole, three quarters full and icy white. A heavy silence fills cabin.

“Rose, I was t’inkin’—”

“Jade, by any chance—”

Both girls speak at once, and then stop. There’s a pause.

“Awfully chilly tonight,” Rose says evenly.

“I’m… a bit cold, Rose,” Jade replies.

There’s some shuffling of sheets and then the creak of the wooden ladder as Rose climbs up and crawls into Jade’s bunk. Wordlessly, she lies down facing Jade, and pulls the covers over them. The bedmates gaze at each other, their features just discernible in the moonlight. “Better?” Rose asks.

“Just about,” says Jade, who pulls her into a loose embrace, the heat of her long limbs ensconcing Rose and quickening her heartbeat. “OK, t’ere.”

“I missed this,” Rose says. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about since… Since the coffee, actually. I started thinking about the old dorm, and nights like this.”

Jade’s response is pressing her forehead and nose to Rose’s and nuzzling her fondly. “You know how t’e moon gets me,” she murmurs, the heat of her breath playing across Rose’s parted lips. “Even since before…”

“Mmm, I remember. Although there are a few details which I … wouldn’t mind reviewing,” Rose breathes, lips quivering in anticipation of Jade’s.

Jade giggles mischievously up until the moment she kisses Rose, and Rose can feel the smile on her lips as they press to hers again and again, fervent as an excited puppy, her swishing tail upsetting the covers. Her little hands immediately slide to Jade’s chest, squeezing and caressing her much more well-endowed friend through her nightgown and enjoying the little sighs and coos she coaxes out. They draw apart, and Jade makes short work of their bedclothes; Rose blushes as her body is revealed to Jade’s curious eyes in the moonlight, but she can’t resist gazing back at the witches’ body either, that long frame knotted with muscle and more than a few scars, each gnarled patch or streak of conspicuously pink scar tissue representing valuable evidence gathered during her cryptozoology research.

They wriggle closer together, continue; Jade pulls Rose’s smaller frame to her, running her hands along her sides and the modest swells of her breasts. “You’re still so little, Rose,” she says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s only that you’ve grown so much since…” Rose quips, but Jade’s clever fingers tracing over her hitch her breathing and make speaking hard. “Tonight isn’t one of _those_ though, is it? I don’t suppose ‘Lil’ Bec’ will be paying a visit?”

Jade’s response is a shake of the head and a firm pinch on Rose’s nipple. “Full moon’s not for a week,” she says, grinning as Rose spasms in surprise. Anticipating Rose’s next words, she takes hold of the girl’s jaw and slides a thick thumb past her lips and into her mouth. “‘Bec’ will be back t’en. For now, I’ve got a bett’a use for t’at clever tongue of yours, kitten.”

Rose glares up at Jade despite blushing heavily, and this is where she’d begin to gripe about Jade’s pet names for her if she weren’t beginning to drool around the warm digit pressing on her tongue. Eyes half-lidded, her heart pounds as Jade manhandles her, and she can’t bring herself to resist as the witch turns her Rose’s body around and guides her face down to her hips, bringing her knees to either side of Jade’s head, her fluffy white ears tickling Rose’s legs as they squeeze together on the little bunk. As Rose nuzzles the witch’s strong thighs apart, she allows Jade to steer her own hips to just the right spot. Her eyelids flutter as Jade’s breath plays across her thighs, just the heat of it nearly stunning her, but she keeps her head enough to begin serving Jade, running her little fingers across the witch’s hard belly, kissing along the trail of wiry curls to the apex of her heat. Jade’s soaking, nearly _steaming_ , and Rose is all too happy to lap up the arousal staining her thighs before she begins to give Jade the tongue bath she requested.

Rose throws herself into her work, curling her thin arms around Jade’s tree-trunk legs, stroking her skin. Burying her face between them, she inhales Jade’s scent deeply, musk and pearly arousal, just as nostalgic as the morning’s coffee and incomparably the richer, before she begins to lap at Jade’s readied folds, spreading her slick arousal and leaving no spot unloved. Jade responds with a yip of pleasure, her grip on Rose’s hips tightening unconsciously. Always the easily distracted type, she pulls back to revel in Rose’s skill, tossing a forearm across her beaded brow, her husky panting sending hot breaths across Rose’s folds, dripping wet in the chilly evening air. “Ooh, _mmm,_ t’at’s so nice Rose,” she coos between low growls and little _wuff_ s. She drops her head to the pillow, slicking up a couple of fingers with Rose’s arousal and beginning to stroke her entrance.

Rose shudders as Jade’s calloused fingertips tease her, lips quivering even as they close over Jade’s clit, her muted moans of pleasure reverberating as she attends Jade’s favorite spots with her tongue. Sucking gently, she slips a couple thin fingers inside of her lover, immediately stirring them around the slick heat she finds. Fighting to focus as Jade takes her apart with her fingers, Rose presses on, massaging Jade’s clit with her tongue.

Before much longer, Jade comes with a wild howl, spasming around Rose’s fingers, the bucking of her hips almost enough to toss her off the bunk. The pounding of her elevated heartbeat and the scorching heat of her body resonate through Rose, pressed so closely to her on the little bunk that the ripples of her orgasm are easily felt. They’re only matched by the passion she throws into pleasuring Rose in return, and once Jade gets going, she’s hard to stop.

Late the next morning, Rose and Jade wait surreptitiously behind their door until the witch’s ears detect John’s door unlocking. “Go time!” she whispers urgently.

“Upon consideration, maybe we should-” Rose begins, but it’s no use.

“ _Go time!!_ ” Jade whispers again well above speaking volume, opening their cabin door and nudging Rose firmly out into the hallway, where she collides with John as he’s locking his door.

The businessman starts, but calms down when he recognizes his neighbors. “Ah! Rose and Jade. Good to see you,” he says, adjusting his waistcoat nervously.

Rose is at a loss herself, but Jade steps up and tosses an arm over John’s shoulder, steering him towards the dining hall. “C’mon, we’re goin’ to breakfast, and you’re not gettin’ away t’is time. Rose bet me ten silver t’at I couldn’t eat more doughnuts t’an you, and I have a reputation to uphold,” she says with a warm grin.

“Already?” John says with a gulp, “What did I miss last night at the ball?”

“Ah na’ much, jus’ a champion at work,” Jade says, patting her stomach.

Rose adds, “I only got the recap, but let me put it like this— If you’re going to hold a pie-eating contest, bake enough pies.”

It takes John a second, but he laughs, smile remaining on his lips for a moment. At this, Rose feels a weight lift from her mind, but it’s fleeting too. Unable to shake the same feeling that’s been bothering her since she met John, Rose leads the way to the dining hall, hoping John can’t sense her consternation.

Breakfast on the _Ariuru Maru_ is buffet style and offered all morning. They’re catching the tail end, so the dining hall is sparsely peopled and quiet by the time they arrive. The trio fill their plates from the broad selection, Jade tossing several extra items onto John’s plate until it forms a heap. Fresh dairy and fruit are still in abundance on the second day of their voyage, and Rose fills a bowl with pungent Tribelands yogurt, diced stonefruit and berries, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before all that’s left is limes. There’s still coffee, but it’s watered down and hardly fresh.

Jade picks out a table with an ocean view and the trio settle in. Rose casts a time charm on her coffee, reverting it to a tastier point in its temporal envelope, before taking an appraising sip.

John glances at the sorceress nervously, blowing on her coffee, once again piping hot. “I don’t know much about magic, but should you really be, er… messing with dark forces like that over something as simple as coffee?”

“The umbral specters of the nethersphere do exact a heavy price in most cases, but they’ll do coffee for free,” Rose replies with a sinister smirk.

“Haha, OK?” John says nervously, glancing to Jade.

“Rose, don’ scare away our frien’!” Jade barks, then turns to John. “Ignore her, she’s just messin’ wit’ you. Sorcerers are a bunch of stuck-up snooty smartypantses, every single one of t’em, but she’s completely harmless.” Rose makes a face at her mid-chew, and Jade yips in laughter, quickly joined by John. Turning to him, Jade inquires, “So, are you entering t’e talent show again t’is year?”

John doesn’t look up from his plate, where he’s fruitlessly trying to fork a rogue blueberry. “I don’t know. It’s not the same without my dad here. I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Well what do you like to do?” Rose asks, laying a slice of smoked salmon on her onion bagel.

“Well I like to sing, but the last couple times I just gave a piano recital. Like I said, my dad signed me up, I don’t think he even knows that I like the theater.”

“Well t’en do a show tune!” Jade says, tail wagging excitedly. “What’s hot right now in t’ Capitol, Rose?”

Rose thinks about it, despite seldom venturing outside of chamber music. She thinks back to the street corner quartets and buskers of the Capitol, searching her memory banks for catchy melodies. “Do you know that one that goes, something something, ‘it’s hard to be blue in June… something something the band strikes a tune…?”

Jade’s eyes sparkle. “ _Sunny new person?_ I love t’at song! I heard it done in a beautiful bossa las’ time I went home. ”

John blinks. “Er, yeah, it’s… my favorite actually.” Rose is not sure why, her magical nausea begins to flare up again.

“Well great! We can go to t’e lounge later and practice, t’ey have a baby grand and even a cylinder player!” Jade beams.

John looks to Rose with the all-too-familiar expression of someone getting roped into overcommitting by Jade Harley and hoping for a bailout. Rose just sips her coffee and smiles knowingly, hoping her face doesn’t betray her suppressed unease.

Not so lugubrious after a good meal and a couple of belly laughs, John relates some of the incidents he’d had with the local people and culture of the East Islands in his brief time spent outside some soulless hotel office. Jade’s ears perk up in rapt attention as he describes the sights and sounds of the place, the flavors and textures; Rose nearly tunes out his words as she watches John speak, too focused on ascertaining the source of the magical discomfort he causes her.

He speaks excitedly, animatedly, when he’s not talking about himself. He’s funny, clever, a captivating storyteller, and talented at impressions and accents. But anytime he has to allude to himself or his business, that spark is gone. It doesn’t take a Learned to see that the boy is suffering with himself, and thank the gods for Jade, who is far more qualified to cheer up a downtrodden soul. But her head doesn’t split with Light magic like this anytime she comes upon a self-doubter. Why John? Why now?

After breakfast, they head back to the girls’ cabin for parlor games. He’d mentioned receiving a local card game as a souvenir and ducks into his cabin to retrieve it on the way back.

“See? What did I say? Pancakes and pleasant conversation. Thankfully, I was responsible for providing neither, or I’d have surely bungled it, possibly even caused a mutiny. Instead, thanks to your sparkling wit and the _Ariuru Maru_ ’s sparkling wine, I’d call this a resounding success,” says Rose.

Jade giggles. “Ah g’wan, you’re funny too!” she says, giving Rose’s shoulder a play-swat. “People just need time to get used to you.”

John returns, holding a small wooden case. He follows them into their cabin, blushing slightly as he looks around at the personal effects scattered about, Rose’s makeup by the vanity and Jade’s clothes from last night still crumpled in a corner. Rose watches John look around, apprehension coloring his cheeks a burnished brass shade, and her heart begins to pound as his gaze lingers on a sky-blue crepe dress that Jade had tried on and then left draped over her chair.

Rose winces as a stab of Light strikes her between the eyes and she passes out. Her body drops, and she’d fall to the floor if Jade didn’t catch her as her consciousness fades. Her Vision opens with her seated in front of her childhood self’s bedroom mirror, watching her mother’s pale, thin hands brush her hair, feeling the cool fingertips play across her scalp and nape, temples and crown. She shudders at the feeling, her Vision trembling.

She opens her eyes and the reflection of a John of the same young age looks back at her, expression a neutral frown as his father’ s powerful arms stretch around him from behind, dexterous fingers tying his bow tie a bit too tight. “My son,” he says in Southern, voice so deep it rumbles right through John’s chest, “You’re growing so big and strong. I’m so proud of you.” John only winces as the starched fabric of his collar digs into his skin, and Rose’s vision flickers again.

The next thing she sees is not a memory of hers or a recollection of John’s; she only realizes what she had just witnessed when she feels the tone of her Vision shift, a sensitivity she’d taken years to cultivate. She turns her consciousness from the vision before her to the causal vortex from which it came, and it burns her retinas as bursts of potential and possibly converge and intensify before her, forming all the colors and shapes of an image with none of the cohesion or logic. Finally, when she feels she can take it no longer, her Vision slams shut and her eyes shoot open with a deep gasp. For a moment, the cabin is black save for John’s aura, weak and flickering, and the dress, glowing like a sun.

She blinks again, her vision gradually returning to normal. John and Jade are both staring at her, worry on their faces. She glances from John to the dress, his gaze following hers and his blush resuming at once.

She smiles warmly. “Want to try it on?”

“…How did you know?” he asks, cheeks red.

After a little manipulation by Jade’s space magic, the dress fit perfectly, but that was hardly the point.

The two-week-long trip passes more or less uneventfully, which beats the alternative when Rose considers the kinds of events that can befall a ship. Jade makes friends everywhere she goes, bouncing from one engagement to the next with little regard for schedule in pursuit of partners for an ever-growing list of games. Rose finally finds the time to get some writing done, and thanks to the extra introspection the ocean seems to elicit from her, it’s fucking good too; it feels nice to put some thoughts down on paper, even if no one reads them. Maybe on the return trip, she thinks with a chuckle, she’ll finally get around to recording her memoirs.

Their neighbor’s voyage has been the most eventful by far. Whenever Rose and Jade run into John around the ship, they encounter the same carefully-honed businessman’s persona. But in the afternoons, in the girls’ room for coffee and cards, Jade helps their neighbor change into something more fitting. After the first time Jade referred to John with the word “she”—a slip of the tongue, or so she claimed—during a game of Hanafuda, she’d begun to insist on it, during teatime card-game marathons at least. Before long, they began calling her June, after a lyric from the song she’d been practicing for the talent show. Rose hadn’t realized she was helping June discover who she was when she had her vision, but she’s more than happy to play out her role. Eventually, Rose begins to sits her down in front of the mirror when she visits, brushing her hair, rouging her cheeks, and lining her royal-blue eyes. She feels like a sculptor trying to find a face within a block of marble, hoping to Recognize the girl looking up at her when she’s done. Rose’s eyes are prone to playing tricks on her, but she thinks she’s getting closer with each visit.

A week passes, with the only noticeable demarcation in distance being a steady drop in temperature as they head further north. They dock somewhere for supplies that’s too cold to be worth disembarking for, so Rose takes advantage of the relative stillness to re-enchant the cabin, this time adding several charms and wards to keep the cold at bay. This doesn’t stop Jade from building a blanket fort, even stealing the bedding from unused bunk in June’s cabin.

Finally, the night of the talent show arrives. The ballroom has been decorated for the occasion and the band is warming up with hot dance numbers, but backstage June is getting cold feet.

“I don’t know if I can do this…” she says, nervously fiddling with her sheet music while Rose, dressed in a flattering butter-yellow dress, puts the finishing touches on her hair and makeup.

“Ah g’wan, you’re gonna do great,” Jade says distractedly, tail swishing as she looks around, sizing up the competition. She’s wearing a slinky black number that hugs her curves in all the right ways but still comes off as effortless, wide-brimmed witch’s hat looking extra-pointy for the occasion. “Just picture t’ audience naked, you know?”

“Oh gods, what if THEY’RE picturing ME naked?!” June squeaks, burying her face in her hands.

“They’re supposed to, dear, why do you think I picked this dress?” Rose says, drawing away from June and motioning for her to spin around.

She complies reluctantly despite her beet-red blush, standing from the stool and adjusting the hang of her shiny blue party dress as she turns for Rose’s approval. She comes to a stop, gazing down slightly through dewy lashes, deep blue eyes just a bit teary with nerves, obscured by wayward locks of glossy black hair. Rose suddenly winces, hands shooting to her temples as Light crackles behind her eyes. 

“Hey, is everything OK?” June asks, by her side in an instant with a calming hand on Rose’s back, and she helps the sorceress sit down.

Rose looks up at June, glowing with Light, and the pain is gone as suddenly as it had come, replaced only with warm assurance. “I— I think the worst of it is over,” she says, standing, taking June’s hands and squeezing them. “It’s smooth sailing from here.”

June smiles, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear as Jade bounds up. “You’re on next,”she says excitedly, “Nervous jitters all dealt wit’? Ready to go?”

June steels herself and takes a centering breath. “Yeah, I am!”

“T’en knock ‘em dead!” Jade says, giving her a reassuring pat on the back.

“You’re going to break a lot of hearts tonight,” Rose says, releasing June’s hands and nodding to the awaiting crowds.

June readies her sheet music with a nod and heads out onto the stage. She hands her sheet music to the accompanist as the spotlight focuses on her, and Rose and Jade hold hands in silent support.

June takes her place onstage, her nerves apparent despite her best efforts. “Good evening everyone, this is one you might have heard, it’s called ‘ _Sunny New Person,_ ’ here goes.” A few people clap tepidly.

The pianist begins, playing the popular showtune in a mid-tempo, danceable rag, and the rest of the band joins in, filling the space with jumping bass and sparkling brass. June steps in time with the music, feeling the beat as she begins to sing. Her voice is soulful, and what she lacks in power she makes up for in control and a pianist’s mastery of meter.

_“Well I don’t know what to say_

_You can try and get by but you'll never get your way that way_

_And I don't know what to do_

_Don’t know how to survive, when really living kills you,_

_“Well I don’t know where to go_

_To get away from this feeling on my heels like a shadow_

_And I don’t know where to look_

_The thought of changin’ has me hangin’ on tenterhooks…”_

As June sings, her expression is focused and passionate, the very image of a diva. She’s no dancer, but she’s found the beat and she rocks with the rhythm, sequined dress sparkling in the stage lights as she steps along. A couple of the more inebriated viewers have even begun clapping in time as June heads into the bridge. 

_“But there’s a scent in the air_

_Just as sweet as a peach or a plum or a pear,_

_‘Cause it’s hard to be blue in June_

_Not when the summertime makes me swoon_

_I feel like a star and I’m over the moon_

_Everything feels brand new and I’m on my way!_

_Yes it’s hard to be blue in June_

_It’s hard to be blue when the band strikes a tune_

_After the storm clouds and after the gloom, I’m a_

_Sunny new person on a sunny new day!”_

A murmur of recognition ripples through the crowd as June serenades, soaring tenor pure as a summer breeze. She’s found her footing in the latter half and really starts to belt it out, though perhaps only to be heard over the drunks. Upon delivering the bombastic refrain, her eyes well with tears and she grins, broad and unguarded, as the audience cheers and applauds. “Thank you everyone! I’m June Egbert! Thank you so much!”

She departs to the stage into the welcoming arms of Jade and Rose, eager to embrace her.

“T’at was so good!” Jade gushes, hoisting June up and swinging her around as if she were made of straw.

“It truly was an excellent rendition,” Rose concurs, peeking around the curtain to see the crowd still applauding.

Once Jade set her down, June beams at her friends. “Thank you both so much, I— I don’t know what to say.”

“Your said it all onstage,” says Rose. “It’s nice to finally meet you, June Egbert.”

“Yeah,” Jade pipes in, waggling her eyebrows in comedic lasciviousness, “Come here often, cutie?”

At this, June can’t hold her tears back any more, and held tight in her friends’ embrace, she cries herself free.

For about five seconds. Then there’s a massive, tearing, booming _Crash_ and all three are thrown to the deck. Screams and shatters issue from the ballroom as the backstage sandbags and ropes swing wildly. A loud siren begins to blare. “What’s going on?” June yells over the noise.

“I don’t know!!” Jade yells back, flattening her ears and clapping her palms over them.

Rose concentrates for a moment, then Looks for the source of the disturbance. It takes all her concentration to See through the noise and confusion, but after a moment of searching, she finds what she’s looking for: glowing gold through the wispy haze of her Vision, there’s a gash in the side of the hull, above the water line but not by much. With a shaky breath, Rose strains her Eye and casts her Vision about for the source of the damage. “The ship’s been damaged… Damn the Gods, if only I had my Oracle I could know by what…” she mutters.

Jade’s bright green eyes blink, then she nods. Concentrating for a moment, she bows her head and takes a short breath, then there’s a _zap_ and the whole backstage area flashes white and bright green. When the the lights subside, Rose’s satchel lies in her hands, smoking slightly. She holds its mouth open and yells, “Here!”

Rose plunges an arm into her satchel, roots around for the tensest of moments, and finally withdraws the opaque white sphere. Holding the Oracle, her Vision expands manyfold, a sphere of absolute awareness expanding from the artifact, causality falling into order before her as smoothly as the movement of a carriage-clock. Her body entrusted to Jade, Rose’s consciousness floats above the ship, seemingly the only thing visible for miles, surrounded by nothing but ice and arctic water as cold and endless as death.

Ahead, beyond the range of the _Ariuru Maru’s_ illumination, cliffs of invisibly dark ice rise from the sea like city walls, and from atop one a cloud of smoke and steam billows. The ice cracks sharply and more chunks fall into the water. As the steamer drives forward, another small iceberg impacts the hull with just as resounding a _crash_ as before, sending splinters of ice flying, and dozens more lurk in the darkness ahead. A razor-sharp shard of ice whizzes past Rose’s non-corporeal vantage point, startling her enough to snap her out of her Vision.

“There was an explosion— the channel ahead— is strewn with— icebergs,” Rose gasps returning to consciousness in Jade’s arms, “We have to tell the crew!”

June narrows her eyes and nods decisively. “I’ll do it!” she says, then takes off towards the staircases.

Rose looks up at Jade desperately. “We’re— dead if we don’t— do something,” she wheezes.

Jade’s brow furrows as she thinks. “…Sorry!” she yips, suddenly teleporting the pair of them directly to the bow of the ship.

A wave of nausea washes over Rose as the sensation of teleportation seems to scramble her insides. “Fuck, I told you not to—” Rose begins, then has to stop to suppress the urge to vomit.

“It was an emergency! Now tell me where t’ icebergs are so I can do something about t’em!” Jade barks back, quickly creating a barrier against the weather. Frigid wind howls and every surface is slick with seawater; crashes of breaking waves send salty sprays up to mist the air with freezing dampness and visibility is nil. As if that weren’t enough, a storm rages above them, rain falling in sheets and providing no quarter from the icy onslaught.

The two magic users are warded against the temperature and elements despite their party apparel, but the ship’s hull isn’t. If one more iceberg impacts them, Rose realizes, the whole thing could go down. Clutching her oracle, she expands her field of vision as far as it can extend in one direction without leaving her body. “Twelve degrees, one hundred yards,” she says, gritting her teeth.

Without looking, Jade casts an arm out, searching, palm open. Her ears perking up suddenly, she squeezes it into a fist, and from ahead, there’s a _crunch_ as the iceberg crumbles into sleet under the pressure of her force magic. “Gotcha!” she yips.

“Concentrate! Three-fifty-five degrees, ninety yards! Three degrees, one hundred twenty yards!” Rose continues to range for Jade as the witch crushes the onslaught of icebergs one by one. The ship’s engines have been cut— June must have made it to the engine room— but there’s no way to turn or reverse course. However… “It’s no use… there’s too many,” Rose grunts, as a seeming wall of ice drifts inexorably closer.

Jade clears the channel as best she can, using every means she can think of to dispose of the icebergs. She crushes and smashes, splits and cleaves, even picks up and throws, but each massive expenditure of force requires a commensurate input of magic channeled through her classpect, and while the power of Space is nigh infinite, the channeling is anything but effortless. Despite the barrier protecting them from the storm, sweat beads on her forehead like raindrops. “ _Rrrrrrrr…_ Fuck t’is,” she barks, dropping the barrier and throwing her pointy hat to the deck. “Lalonde! Copy my ward, I’m goin’ for a swim!"

As she duplicates Jade’s ward with a handy bit of blue magic, Rose turns to look at Jade only to find the witch stripping her dress off. As usual, she’s not wearing a stitch underneath; the witch’s brown skin shines in the moonlight, soaked in an instant but defiant to the cold, strong limbs tensing and relaxing in anticipation. “What are you thinking getting naked at a time like this?” Rose yells, resuming her ordinary vision. Jade says nothing but crouches forward, long ringlets falling around her head, drawing in a deep breath, and then rears back and looses a howl of such force that the storm above them is cleaved in two by the sound, the shockwave scattering the rainclouds to the four winds and leaving the skies above them clear. Now visible above them, perched between ribboning auroras, is a piercingly white….

“You know how t’ moon gets me,” Jade grins with an exaggerated wink, teeth already growing sharper. Before Rose’s eyes, Jade’s body begins to stretch and warp, a thick thatch of bristling silver-white fur growing to cover her suddenly massive frame, her legs buckling as her balance readjusts to her now digitigrade feet. Wicked claws grow from her fingers and toes and her arms and legs bulge with new strength. Her curls cascade around her as her face lengthens, blocking Rose’s view of the process, but when she rears back, her face is transformed into that of a wolf, and as she rears back to howl again, the deadly beauty of her new body is thrown into relief in the moonlight. Easily eight feet tall and wide as a door frame, Jade’s werewolf form towers over Rose, radiating power, sleek curves complimented by coiled muscle. Her torso, strong and slender under a smooth layer of fur but suddenly a bit more top-heavy than before, angles forward in an animalistic crouch, proud and calm, brilliant green eyes and fluffy white ears are all that remain of the gregarious, good-natured Islander Rose knew; both are fixed on Rose now, awaiting her instructions, hot breaths rising in silver clouds in the arctic air.

Rose shakes herself and concentrates with a quick breath and a nod, resuming her Sight. “Dead ahead, forty yards!” Rose says, but Jade only barks and tilts her head quizzically. Rose curses, sighs, and then points in the direction of the oncoming iceberg. “Sic ‘em, girl!”

This seems to work. Jade turns and leaps to the prow of the ship in a single bound, and then leaps off with such force that the whole ship rocks slightly. Grasping the Oracle, Rose watches as the werewolf lands on the mass of ice and begins to pound it with magically-infused strikes with fists the size of hams. Chunks of ice go flying, and before long she’s worked a crack in, and moments later the entire things splits and breaks apart. Before she loses her footing though, Jade deftly bounds to the next one, where she howls a beam of sonic force so fine it splits neatly apart in seconds.

In a furious whirlwind of flailing limbs and piercing howls, Jade proceeds to destroy iceberg after iceberg, reducing them to harmless debris that bounces ineffectually off the hull of the _Ariuru Maru_. With the seemingly-endless access to her Source her werewolf form gives her, she could do this all night. From her vantage point, Rose alerts her to any that get by her, and before long the channel ahead slowly begins to clear up. By the last few, Jade’s made a game of it and is clearly having fun bashing the icebergs to bits.

Finally, to Rose’s surprise, Jade emerges from the darkness on a little wooden dinghy that shows signs of damage, and drifts back to the ship on the struggling vessel. Unfortunately, the craft doesn’t survive after Jade leaps back up to the deck off it, but she brings something with her: Rose recognizes it as a crate lid, and what’s more, it’s marked with numerous words and symbols for _explosive_. When she inspects it further, she finds a distinct mark on it that looks a bit like a capital M, stamped in dark blue. “… _Fucking pirates,_ ” she spits.

She’s startled back to the moment as Jade crouches over and shakes herself dry, redistributing the water logging her coat onto everything else in the vicinity, before gazing at Rose with an easy, canine smile, tongue lolling out and posture relaxing. “ _Bark!”_ she says, and begins to zoom around the ship’s prow.

Rose is nonplussed but unsurprised, but she can’t help but smile as the werewolf flops onto her back on the deck of the ship, one long, canine foot in the air, trying to get Rose to play with her, tongue lolling out the side of her snout as she pants little clouds into the cold air. When she sees Rose looking at her, she kicks her leg playfully a couple times and _woof_ s, rolling onto her front and scooting towards the seer, nose low. Rose giggles incredulously, never sure how much of Jade’s doggy behavior is genuine and how much is part of a slightly oblique role-play. But there’s nothing insincere about the way Jade nuzzles up to Rose, cold snout tracing up her legs right between her thighs, her snuffling and shameless probing raising color to Rose’s cheeks. “H-hey, what’re you—” she says, trying to push the werewolf away to no avail.

Jade just glances up reassuringly, her eyes conveying enough humanity to set Rose’s mind at ease. She then resumes her exploration, sticking her snout into Rose’s crotch and sniffing excitedly. Rose gasps despite herself, and covers her mouth with a small hand, but the damage is done— One of Jade’s ears twitches at the sound, and she dives her massive head under the skirts of Rose’s party dress, pressing her curious nose to her heat and drawing her scent in deep. Panting in easy dominance, Jade flops back and hunches over. She begins somewhat immodestly licking herself between her legs, where already the tapered head of her cock is emerging from her swollen sheath. From what Jade told her after the first time, her werewolf physicality is owed more to the research subject who bit her than anything else, but that didn’t stop her from figuring out how to bring it about during full moons even while human—apparently a much more difficult trick than the ears and tail. Rose graciously nicknamed her canine companion “Lil’ Bec” after the wolf in question, but it seems the moniker no longer applies.

“Monsieur Becquerel, we meet again,” Rose chuckles. “I see you’ve also grown since school.” She steps towards Jade, sitting beside Jade’s hips and taking her emerging member in hand. It’s hot and pulsing, and Rose smiles up at Jade, panting in satisfaction. In response, Jade nuzzles her affectionately, dotting her face with excited licks and little kisses in between shudders of hot breath.

“Oh, you like that, girl?” Rose chuckles, beginning to stroke her length, coaxing more and more thick red flesh from the sheath. “…Gods, when does it end?” she mutters to herself, but finally her knot pops out with a throb, easily the size of one of Rose’s fists, and with a couple of eager twitches, the slick shaft rises to stand erect.

In an instant, Jade fluidly reverses their positions, her massive frame knelt over the seer’s small body, her jutting shaft steel-hard, a hair’s breadth from her face, so close she can see the steam rising from it. Rose’s eyes go wide as the the totality of her vision is taken up by Jade above her and the moon above Jade, and she feels an unconscious _clench_ as she faces her foe. The werewolf wastes no time in rutting her shaft against Rose, pressing the slick heat to her chest and face with force. Rose grimaces as Jade’s throbbing cock leaves a sticky trail of musky slime wherever it rubs, smearing it on her dress and makeup, but while she’s sickened slightly she can’t deny the want it elicits in her.

Stumbling back under the Jade’s weight, Rose finds herself trapped, the prow of the ship behind her and nothing but ocean beyond that. Numerous ropes crisscross around them so she grabs one for support as Jade’s careful but clumsy attentions continually knock her off-balance. Finally, the wolf woman takes herself in one massive paw and insistently presses the tip of her cock to Rose’s clenched mouth, fat bead of precum there bursting at the contact and dribbling down her chin. It’s still slick with Jade’s juices, so she runs her hands along the length of it, caressing the pulsing knot, stroking her fuzzy sack, drooping and heavy. Rose graciously parts her lips for Jade, suckling on the tip of it— Closing her eyes and allowing her musky stench and salty taste to fill her senses, tracing her tongue down the swollen veins along the throbbing shaft. What she can’t accept into her mouth, she strokes and attends with her hands, earning pleased whines and _wuff_ s— and the occasional spurt of precum— from her bestial lover. Jade’s braced herself on the corner of the prow, the tension of her powerful muscles evident through her shining white fur as she bucks her hips back and forth, clearly restraining herself from fucking Rose’s mouth the way she’d like to.

Rose pulls off for a second, still pumping Jade’s long shaft with both fists. Reaching one hand around her hip to squeeze and stroke her ass and the base of her tail, Rose opens her mouth wider and gazes up at Jade through blonde lashes. “Come on girl, don’t hold back,” she says with a devilish smirk, lust unguarded in her eyes as she gazes up at the werewolf.

Jade’s hips jerk forward, shaking herself free of Rose’s grasp and taking herself in hand. Guiding her leaking tip to the sorceress’ mouth, she drives inch after thick inch past Rose’s lips, stretching her limits and drawing tears from her lavender eyes. She pauses to allow Rose a moment to ready herself, her predator’s eyes catching the moonlight and burning bright green, and playing helpless, Rose offers her throat to the wolf. With a low growl, Jade sinks her cock inside, inch after inch all the way to the knot, and begins to rock her hips at full pace.

Black-speckled spittle sprays from Rose’s lips as sticky fluids drip down her chin and stain her dress further, but Rose couldn’t care less how she looks right now. In fact, part of her has never been more turned on; her tongue, the key to any room she’s ever cared to enter and a weapon of the highest caliber in its own right, the very _apparatus_ of her Light, is being degraded utterly in the service of pleasure, freakish, rank, _bad_ pleasure, and frankly a stiff breeze could get her off. Even as Jade uses her throat as a toy, humping away at her face like an alley dog in rut, she can’t keep from slipping her fingers down her ruined dress.

The torment doesn’t last long, however; Rose feels Jade nearing her climax even before she rears back, but the sky-splitting _howl_ that accompanies her orgasm is sure to have alerted the rest of the ship as well. Rose’s eyes fly open wide as Jade’s cock jerks, pumping thick streams of hot cum right into her stomach, jumping and bucking out of her throat to fill her mouth with cloying spunk as well before pulling out and shooting another handful of sticky ropes over her fucked-raw face. Steam rises from the webs of hot spunk streaking Rose’s ruined makeup, mixing with the clouds of hot breath she pants out as she tries to regain her breath through a mouthful of salty werewolf wad.

She flops back to rest against the wall of the prow and clean her face, but Jade gives her no quarter. Immediately, the werewolf scoops her ass up with one hand and hoists her up, sending her arms flailing to tangle in the the bowsprit rigging as she angles Rose’s hips to meet her ever-hard cocktip, too charged with Space energy to be satisfied that quickly, still dribbling a stream of thin semen down her length to drip off her balls. Rose bites her lip at the thought of those fat nuts churning up another hot load for her, and she feels her pussy quiver in anticipation, but she can’t so much as slide her panties off right now—she’s bound within Jade’s grasp. The wolf presses her painfully-hard shaft to Rose’ crotch, and the sorceress nearly comes the second she feels the heat of Jade’s canine member against the damp cotton of her underwear.

Before Rose realizes what’s happening, Jade brings a razor-sharp claw to her chest, and with frantic swipes reduces her clothing to shreds, raising pink welts just shy of cuts along the sorceress’ skin, suddenly exposed to the moonlight. Her pale body trembles in need, nipples achingly hard and hips quaking. Jade’s powerful nose is no stranger to the scent of Rose’s arousal, but a fresh unfiltered burst of it is almost too much to bear, and she wastes no time burying herself in Rose’s readied snatch.

Neither the werewolf nor her prey is able to hold back a moan of pure satisfaction as they begin to mate in earnest. Rose knows better to than expect a grace period as Jade draws up to her full height and squares her stance, and she trills in pleasure as the snowy-furred werewolf begins to fuck her in long strokes that Rose feels throughout her entire body. Jade’s tongue lolls from her panting mouth, silvery strands of drool bowing as she fucks away, her hips pistoning into Rose with the tireless force of the diesel engine belowdecks.

Just as Rose is nearing another peak, however, Jade begins to utter low growls and her thrusts go a bit wanton. Unceremoniously, she pulls out and spurts another gout of white sludge onto Rose’s chest, squeezing her dick tight in her massive claw and throwing her head back in satisfaction as she marks Rose again, knowing better than to risk trying to knot her too early in the night.

The sticky mess she’s left on Rose has taken no toll on Jade’s erection, however, and she makes to plunge back in as soon as she’s finished. But Rose wants revenge for her robbed orgasm. With a clear-headed single-mindedness afforded only by coitus interruptus, she throws a weightlessness curse on the silverback in the blink of an eye, rendering her immune to gravity. She slips between those pillar-like legs, and from the rear, seizes her by the tail with both hands. Careful not to slip on a puddle—Lords know there are plenty about—she swings the werewolf around in a full wheel before releasing her to fly boner over teakettle into the rigging. Finally, Rose charms the rigging and the ropes come alive, intelligently binding her to the boatswain and meeting her struggles with matching force. It’s not the first time she’s used this spell on Jade, she recalls with a smirk, thinking back to their college days. Many happy returns, indeed.

Naked aside from the torn stockings on her legs, still dangling pieces of her ruined garter belt, Rose struts forward to mount her kill, walking across Jade’s restrained body like shag carpet. She approaches Jade’s towering erection, jutting straight up from her bound hips. Slicking the nearly knee-high length of it up with Jade’s own juices, Rose hurriedly angles the tip to her entrance and sinks down, eyelids fluttering as she fills herself to the brim with Jade’s love, then further. On her knees astride Jade’s hips, thick fistfuls of white fur clutched in her fists, Rose begins to ride Jade at a gallop, savoring the slick friction only girth like hers can provide as she pumps her hips. Sweat beads her forehead as she throws herself into fucking Jade, rocking her hips as hard and as fas as she can muster, the massive beast trapped beneath her no longer struggling, wise enough not to resist Rose’s will any further. The spunky sorceress goes as long as she can in this vein, grinding out climax after climax of her own off of Jade’s desperate shaft, clawing at her clit and squeezing her own tits red, before falling forward onto Jade’s hard belly and taking her that way for a while, burying her face in Jade’s neck fluff and squeezing and massaging her breasts. Jade gasps and whines as Rose’s pussy squeezes and caresses her burning-red flesh, enclosing her need in soft heat and drawing more pleasure out of her than she can stand.

It’s not long before she starts to make those telltale little growls that Rose recognizes, but the blonde is having none of it. “Oh no you don’t, I’m hardly finished,” she pants, and slides off of Jade, stroking her clit roughly as she watches Jade’s prepuce twitch in frustration. “This is for being a bad girl,” she says, flicking the cock just to watch it bob and twitch, spurt and drip. Jade growls and barks but can do nothing as Rose struts across her supine body to kneel right over her transformed face. “No barking! Anyway, I’ve got a better use for that tongue,” she smirks.

Jade glares up at her with the most threatening, terrifying, predatory face that she can muster, and utters a low, gut-clenching _growl_ , every bit the monster of a child’s nightmare made flesh, but Rose only smirks as she lowers her folds to Rose’s snout, pressing insistently at her lips. “Come on girl, sic ‘em,” she says, leaning her weight down on Jade’s snout. The werewolf’s long, slippery tongue slides out experimentally at the sensation, and Rose’s eyes cross as Jade, for all her protestations, digs in, beginning to slurp and slobber over her dribbling cunt. The beast’s tongue bombards her with firm, flat licks across her clit, and when she gets bored of that she lowers her snout and begins to tongue-fuck Rose instead, thrusting the muscle inside her and massaging her walls with curling licks. Seeming to understand that the sooner she gets Rose off the faster she’ll get her own satisfaction, Jade goes at her like she’s still at the pie-eating contest, and she gets her way as a knee-numbing orgasm sends Rose tumbling to lay prone on the beast’s fuzzy torso.

This proves to be a mistake. In the seconds Rose’s indiscretion affords her, Jade is able to tear one brawny arm free of her restraints, and from her blind spot, she grabs the little sorceress bodily up with one hand. Even as Rose yelps in surprise, the werewolf slams her back down onto her cock, sinking down to the knot in one stroke.

Rose wheezes, coughing a spray of spit as Jade lifts her nearly off and then bucks up again and again, gripping and fucking her like an inanimate object. Rose’s limbs go limp, nipples hard as icicles as her little breasts sway, unable to process anything but the sensation of Jade violating her, the feeling of being used, and that fat knot knocking on her entrance with each thrust.

She feels it before she Sees it, but soon Jade’s body begins to glow a subtle green, and she can feel herself being affected. Usually she hates to be a target of Jade’s Space magic, but this time it couldn’t be more welcome. “Oh gods yes, make me fucking take it, Jade, give me all of it, _fuck—!”_ With a numb pressure, Rose can feel herself being altered, being changed to accommodate the reality-bending properties of Jade’s unconscious hex, but before she can take an exhaustive inventory of changes, Jade knots her.

Rose has to fight not to pass out as Jade slams her down, burying every last inch of her implacable wolfcock inside Rose’s far-too-small body. The pressure is immense, and the pleasure is even more so as Jade’s knot claims her, filling her to an impossible degree, before sliding out and back in, as slowly as she’s capable. Rose feels like she’s being turned inside out, her body buzzing with electric pleasure, the side effects of Jade’s space magic.

Not satisfied to take it slow, Jade finally gives Rose what she asked for, pumping her body up and down her shaft in one monstrous fist, resuming her pace from before with the added pressure of that knot squeezing into her at the apex of each thrust, dragging her closer to climax each time it pops out. It doesn’t take long before Rose comes, spasming in ecstasy and crowing out into the night, and Jade slams her down a final time to meet her there. Her balls jump as she begins to fill Rose to bursting with forceful, hot streams, her load seemingly never ending, practically fucking Rose’s womb with the force of her ejaculations. Rose comes again and again at the feeling, the _thought_ , and finally she gives in and goes limp, flopping on top of Jade, thick knot still to be trapped inside her for Gods know how long. Looking around at the damage they’ve caused to the front of the ship, Rose decides she’ll repair it in the morning. “Good girl,” she murmurs, kissing Jade’s chest affectionately, and summarily falls asleep. Jade uses her only free arm to hug Rose tight to her as she drifts unconscious.

The ship pulls into harbor at the crack of dawn on the morning of their arrival. Rose awakens at the sensation of the ship stopping, and she realizes a bit too late that she never warded the room against _not_ moving. She sighs and looks around at the cabin, all tidied and packed up, and feels a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving the little room she’s come to think of as home. But suddenly, streams of morning sun shine through the porthole and light the room in the most dramatic tangerine shade, and Rose smiles when it finally hits her that she’s arrived. As Jade stirs and yawns, she hops from her bunk, eager to set foot on terra firma once more.

They pass the tall captain and her grumpy-looking mate on the way out, exchanging curt nods and trying not to remember the awkward hour that followed the discovery of their little escapade. It wasn’t so much that it took a dozen crewmen to disentangle Jade’s slumbering body from the boatswain, it was more so that it took three to disentangle her from Rose. It was agreed upon that any damage incurred would be explained to the insurance company as iceberg-related; for their heroism, as well as their discretion, Rose and Jade were offered first-class passage for life. Rose assured her they’d keep their story to themselves, but only needed to remind the captain of the crate lid bearing the blue mark to demonstrate why staying off the high seas would be a better bet for the time being. Grateful in any case, the captain promised to cable the line’s clubhouse and arrange a commodore’s suite for the duration of their stay nonetheless, complete with concierge service, with the tacit understanding that it not end up looking like the prow of the _Ariuru Maru_ did.

They walk down the gangplank with June, saddest of all to part ways with their newest friend. The moment seems to drag on, and no one can seem to find anything to say. Finally, at the carriage stand, June turns to face them both. “Rose, Jade, I owe the two of you more than I can say.”

“I’m so— I’m sooo—” Jade tries, but it’s no use. She sniffles loudly and throws her arms around June, almost knocking her over.

“It’s not as though we’ll never meet again,” Rose says, “High tea and Koi Koi at the Grand Imperial this Sunday?” Her tone is even, but she’s fighting back tears as well, placing a hand on June’s shoulder.

Once she’s released, June smiles and says, “Or maybe a tea ceremony! I’d really like to get out of the hotel this time, you know? First things first though: Cable my pops and introduce myself. Might be a good thing to be an ocean away for a couple weeks, to be honest, but he’ll come around.”

Rose nods. “Another certainty,” she says, motioning to her third eye with a sly smile.

And in the meantime,” Jade says with a sweep of her arm, “We have so much to explore!”

“Oh yeah, there is one thing I can do, though, as a token of gratitude,” June says, and she reaches into one of her bags, to pull out two thick envelopes.

Rose and Jade’s eyes go wide. “We can’t accept this—” she begins, but June insists, thrusting the packets into their hands.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s already in the local En so you don’t have to change it. Think of it as a heartfelt thank-you note from my expense account to your seafood budget.”

“I hate that I’m like this,” Rose says, stowing the envelope.

Jade only laughs, nuzzling June again in gratitude. “We’ll bring you souvenirs when we visit!” They’re still laughing as they part ways.

As Rose looks around at the busy carriage stand, a nonstop flow of rickshaws and ox-drawn luggage wagons careening every which way at breakneck speed, she feels a bit of vertigo, though she’s not surprised to see her companion’s tail wagging again. As she squints at the riot of brightly-colored signs in every language she’s ever seen and plenty she doesn’t recognize, she’s surprised to see her own name, handwritten on a poster board being held by a conspicuously blond man of about her age. He’s wearing a red velvet blazer trimmed in black, crossed-key pins on each lapel, and black sunglasses.

Approaching the man, Rose glares. Recognizing her, his fine brows furrow as he stands up straight from the wall on which he’d been leaning. “What the hell are YOU doing here?!” Yell Rose and Dave at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is on the way. Your kudos and comments make my day and motivate me to write more!


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